The Dreamer's Curse
by Raziela Kei
Summary: Jane's family has a dreadful secret. They have been cursed to live in the world of their own dreams until a descendant can break the spell. It began with Alice Kingsleigh, and now it's Jane's turn to bear the curse, where she finds herself stuck in the realm of Harry Potter. Will she be able to distinguish between dreams and reality? Will she finally be the one to break the curse?
1. 1: The Dreamer's Curse

Author's Note: Given the nature of this plot, there are many literary characters and concepts that will make their appearance into the story. Part of C.S. Lewis' Narnia will come into play. Lewis Caroll's and Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland will also play its part, but the concepts obviously belong to them. I could not imagine myself to take any credit for their brilliance. What's more, all Harry Potter components belong to Queen JK Rowling, and the concept of switching between dreams and reality, and not knowing the difference belongs to Ted Dekker, from The Circle Series which I absolutely love.

Also, I found the cover on tumblr via google images. It is not mine, nor is it me.

Hope you like it! =]

...

Chapter 1

...

The Dreamer's Curse

...

The twenty first century was a beautifully tragic era. Despite all the information we had and the many ways we could acquire it, the world has continued to depreciate. All the old books on science fiction had obviously had it all wrong. The world didn't progress, it seemed to digress.

And here I was, a hopelessly ideal university freshman, dreaming of the hour I could rush to my room and sink my eyes into a book. I sat in my class and mulled over the different ways to sneak out of it. To no avail, however.

My English professor was of the opinion that every single word in a book ought to possess a hidden meaning. "There is significance to each choice of word," he would often say. At first, I had thought he was being metaphorical, but no, he wasn't. "Why did the author use 'the' instead of 'a'?" he was in the middle of saying. I rolled my eyes. Well, obviously because he was referring to a specific piece of object in the realm he had created, whereas 'a' refereed to one of many. Of course, he had used this explanation before. If we had been on the subject of C.S. Lewis, or J.K. Rowling, I would have been infinitely more interested. We were instead on the subject of World Literature – an interesting subject enough, if Professor Fiddle had not been the instructor.

"Ms. March?" he called, pulling me from my thoughts. "Jane, I asked you a question."

"I'm sorry, Professor, I was still mulling over Achebe's use of 'the' versus 'a'."

"We're now on Ezinma," he looked at me expectantly.

I glanced about me. The whole class was staring at me, concealing their amusement. I shifted in my seat, fumbling for an answer. "I think, Professor, that since Okonkwo often saw his son Nwoye as a disappointment, an embodiment of his father whom he sought not to emulate, Ezinma became the son who could have been, because of her bold and boyish nature. She was the one Okonkwo would have wanted to succeed him, although she was born a girl."

Professor Fiddle gave an approving nod. "Very insightful," his mouth twitched as the bell rang. "Right, I want a three page paper on Chapters 12-14 by the end of the week. If I don't see it on my desk, then you don't get a grade – no, Mr. Bryan, I shall not go to hell, at least not before I grade those papers. Class dismissed."

I stuffed my books into my knapsack and made straight for the door. Raphael Bryan was by my side in no time. "Nice save back there," he said in his melodic voice. His perfection irritated me. "Come on, cousin, aren't you going to amuse me today?"

"No, Raph, and if you insist on calling me 'cousin' even when we really aren't, then I won't even attempt to be nice."

"Come on, we _did _spend our high school years together, and I know how you just _adore _how they used to call each other cousins in the 1600s. Hang out with me, Jane, we could get drunk, and snog, and fall in love –"

"If you ever make such a cruel suggestion again, I swear, I'll – I'll strangle you!"

Raph burst into laughter. "You'll strangle me? You're pathetic. You wouldn't hurt a fly."

"I could so! Honestly," I shook my head as we emerged into the cold winter's air. The sun was setting in the horizon. Were we in that classroom for very long? "You can do whatever you want to, Raph, but I'm going home to sleep, and no, you can't come with me," I announced. I trudged through the fresh snow, creating new tracks with my boots. The weather lifted my sourly mood, despite my fatigue. I made my way out of campus and rode the metro home. When we moved here from Glasgow, neither Papa nor Mum justified themselves with a reason. As much as I loved my beloved Britain, America has been treating me well. We were tucked away in a quiet town near Portland, surrounded by parks and friendly people. I often wondered why my parents had given England up, but after three years in the quaint Americas, I came to understand why.

The metro screeched to a halt, and I stepped out. Two blocks away, our cozy house stood at the corner of nowhere, and I am perfectly happy to say that I had – have a happy home. I rang the doorbell, and smiled at Mum as she opened it. She pulled me into a tight hug and ushered me into the kitchen. She was always happy to see me, but Papa always spoke to me as if I had been gone for years.

"Have you read The Valley of Fear, Jane?" Papa asked me as I entered the living room.

"By Arthur Conan Doyle? Of course, Papa," I sat next to him on the sofa. He was always engrossed in some Sherlock Holmes story or another. "Is Henry home?"

"Yes, he's up in his room filling out his application forms," Papa said absently. "What do you think of it?"

"Oh, of Henry leaving? Well, he's twenty two now, and he seems to be headed for a promising career in Houston, so I think it's great. Or was it the book you were asking after? I like it very much. Why?"

He smiled and gave me a pat on the shoulder. "Never you mind, just a puzzle I've been working on," he muttered. I had just thought to ask him why he was puzzled by a book he had read so many times over, but turned to find him fast asleep. I myself could feel the tug of slumber wash over me, and since I didn't consider my paper as sufficient motivation to stay awake, I drifted off into the land of dreams.

_I had just shut my eyes when I found myself prying them open once again. I looked about me, and found that I was no longer on our living room couch. I straightened up and looked about me. A vast field of wheat stretched as far as my eyes could see. I stood up, only just realizing that I had been on the ground, leaning on a great oak tree. I dusted myself off and began to walk aimlessly about the wheat field. I recounted the day in my head, leading up to how I got here. "Well, first, I was in class," I muttered. "All day, actually. Then I came home at sundown, before supper, and I was sitting with Father on the couch. Oh! Then I fell asleep! I must be dreaming!" Just when I had said this, a small white rabbit dressed in a waistcoat was scurrying past. I felt a familiarity seep over me. "Well, it's just like Wonderland," I whispered. The rabbit, apparently hearing me, looked up at me in shock. It hopped away, and I chased after it. _

_"Wait! Don't go!" I called after it, but it was too late. The rabbit had already gone down its rabbit hole. I meant only to poke my head in to see where it had gone, but I felt my foot slip, and down I tumbled into the rabbit hole. I let out a yelp of surprise, as I tumbled down the hole. It dipped down, and was as deep as a tunnel. My long dark hair fluttered behind me as I fell down, down, down. I whizzed past bookshelves and trinkets, and had to swerve to avoid floating mirrors and chairs of all sorts. A letter was floating near my feet, and I caught a look at whom it was addressed to. "Why, that's my name!" I exclaimed. I grabbed it before it could fly past me. _

_The fall seemed to go on and on, so I propped myself up and pried open the letter's waxy seal. _

_"Dear Jane," it read. _

_"I knew you were coming, of course. The White Queen has never been wrong, and I should much like to think she's right about you. Of course, having this in your hand means that the curse has been passed on yet again. Dearest Jane, I hope you haven't lost your muchness after nineteen years of the world trying to drill it out of you, for you will need it much more in the nights to come. _

_"Darling, you are the seventh generation to be cursed with this fate – to live whilst you sleep, to live in dreams. I apologize for my father, who had dabbled with magic in his travels. This was his punishment, to walk in between two realms, until a descendant could break the spell._

_"Of course, you would have many questions. You see, dreams are when our spirits are most vulnerable, and my father Charles Kingsleigh thought himself clever to explore different realms in his sleep – he was a young man at the time, barely two and twenty! His pride led to his downfall when a true witch sensed his tricks, and warned him not to meddle with the fabric of the realms. _

_"By this time, Charles had realized that time was not a continuous stream, and dreams could transport one to the past. He attempted to change his fate, for his business partner had made a blunder the day before. This would, of course, have unfortold consequences, and was foolish. The witch had intercepted him, and cursed him to live the nights in his worst dreams, until one of his children took the burden for themselves._

_"I received the burden at seven years old, and I thought I had gone completely mad after my first adventure in Underland. I had strange dreams, always in the same odd place. Father assured me that I was completely sane, and told me of the curse. I would sleep in my bed back in England, and find myself in Underland. I would sleep in Underland and find myself back in my bed. My father had told me that if I were to be shaken awake at home, then the moment I awoke would match some time I slept in the other realm, and vice versa._

_"I first thought this exciting, but realized it was far from it. I could never tell when I would get back to reality, and sometimes, I couldn't tell reality from my dreams. I could feel pain in Underland, and I could feel joy. I could weep and I could laugh – just as I could in the real world. I had friends who were real and true in Underland. Sometimes, even more so than in England. Most difficultly, I fell asleep in Underland, but did not awake in my own home. _

_"I had discovered that the fabric of time between the dream world and our world was not the same. In fact, I could spend months in Underland without going back! Oh, it was difficult, waking up and realizing you were no longer dreaming, or that you were. An hour in England was not necessarily commensurate in Underland. Fortunately, I had Absolom and the White Queen to guide me, and soon, I was able to live a proper life in both realms, although I had no idea how to break the spell._

_"The curse plagued me until I was seven and thirty, when it was passed onto my son, Jasper. Before then, the White Queen and I had made preparations for each descendant's arrival. There is no doubt – when you arrive, I shall be living in a different realm, the realm past our world's death. Although I cannot go back to help you in our own realm, for the time is but linear there, I do believe my son should find a way to meet you in the dream realm as his own self – for he has the knack of traveling between realms and time. _

_"To be honest, dear Jane, I am not completely sure how it all works out, but to bear the curse, you must be brave. I trust you will not disappoint us all, darling. _

_"Your ever affectionate ancestor, Alice Kingsleigh."_

_ I gasped. If it were all true, then I barely knew when I would be waking. I felt myself land on the floor with a thud. Exhausted, I lay my head down to rest. _

"Jane, please wake up," Papa's pleading voice woke her. "Jane, dear, it's happened, hasn't it? You've gone down the hole? Oh, that's how it starts."

I stared at him, wide eyed. "But it was all just a dream," I furrowed my brow, "it can't possibly be true."

Papa's expression was so serious, that I knew he wasn't lying. Suddenly, his fixation on Sherlock Holmes had made sense. His elation when Mum and I were around understandable. His completely composed nature when things go awfully wrong – oh, everything made sense! "You dreamed of Sherlock," I exclaimed. Papa nodded wordlessly. "Oh, Papa, it's not your fault. Alice had already explained everything."

"My dear Jane," He held my hand tightly. "I always hoped it would be Henry."

"What did Grandma Caroline dream about?" I asked, somehow knowing she had preceded him.

"She was obsessed with Dracula when she was a girl. I suppose it's why she dreamt of deadly vampires. She ended up becoming one in the other realm. She hated it," Papa's expression lightened. "She was in my dreams. I was always anxious to keep her safe. People can die in dreams. Father did, in fact, shortly before he died in this realm. When you run with Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson, your life isn't exactly peaceful."

Papa sent me off to bed before Mum could ask questions.

"You'll know which book you fall into once you get back to bed," Papa explained. "It's difficult, and we don't know exactly what links this world to the other."

"Will your dreams stop? When I begin to dream?" I asked him before he left my room.

He smiled at me, relief filling his eyes. "They just did."


	2. 2: Meeting The Dreamers

Author's Note: Once again, given the nature of this plot, there are many literary characters and concepts that will make their appearance into the story. Part of C.S. Lewis' Narnia will come into play. Lewis Caroll's and Tim Burton's Alice will also play its part, but the concepts obviously belong to them. I could not imagine myself to take any credit for their brilliance. What's more, all Harry Potter components belong to Queen JK Rowling, and the concept of switching between dreams and reality, and not knowing the difference belongs to Ted Dekker, from The Circle Series which I absolutely love.

Also, I found the cover on tumblr via google images. It is not mine, nor is it me.

Here's the second chapter. Hope you like it! =]

...

Chapter 2

...

Meeting The Dreamers

...

I lay on my bed wide eyed, refusing to sleep. My previous dream had been too odd – almost as odd as Papa's reaction. At first, it had all made sense, but as I lay in my own bed after the fuss had died down, it didn't make sense at all. To distract myself, I grabbed my laptop from my backpack and began typing away at my paper. Professor Fiddle would have been pleased. I had read _Things Fall Apart _over and over again back in high school, so the paper was as easy as pie. I heard my cell phone vibrate just as I finished the last sentence. I hopped off my bed and fished for it in my pant pocket.

"Perfect timing, Raph," I hissed. "Did you sense me doing that World Literature paper or something?"

"No, I had no idea," he paused. "Can I see your work?"

I groaned. "Every time, Raph!"

"Nevermind, that wasn't what I called you about!"

I glared at my cell phone. "What are you playing at?"

"Professor Fiddle asked to meet you tomorrow morning."

"What? Is this about spacing out in his class again?"

"I have no idea," Raph said in a droll voice. "He just ran into me after you left and asked that you meet him downtown tomorrow morning at 8 AM sharp."

"That's rather cryptic," I bit my bottom lip. "A teacher asking to meet me downtown. That's just odd."

"Maybe he wants to date you," Raph teased. I did not gratify him with a snide remark, as I often would.

"He wasn't mad, was he?"

"No, but maybe for you," he added. I ignored his shoddy attempt at a joke.

"Where did he say we would meet?"

"He didn't."

"Oh, well, do you think it's got something to do with our paper?"

"I don't think so. Hey, Jane, are you all right? You seem a little absent..."

"Oh, it's nothing, just a strange dream I had."

"Well, that's how James Cameron got his film ideas, who knows, you might be onto something."

"Oh, please," I ended the call and flopped back onto my bed.

I replayed my dream over in my head, surprised I didn't forget anything. I was related to Alice Kingsleigh! I knew there were more important components to note, but I refused to think of anything else. More so, I whispered "I fell down the rabbit hole" to myself more times than I could count, afraid I would forget, but also afraid it was all real. I wasn't too sure which I preferred it to be. I twirled my dark hair in my fingers and muttered the phrase over and over again. "I fell down the rabbit hole." I shut my eyes, still muttering to myself.

I yawned, smiling at the sun. It was morning, and I had not found myself in Underland. I felt around, my hands coming into contact with pillows and blankets. There was no rabbit to chase, no Alice to write letters to me, no hole to fall into.

_So it was all just a dream!_

My eyes fluttered open, and I thought I heard Mum enter the room. I turned to make a witty comment about what I would write for my paper, but the words caught in my throat. The slender young woman with blonde curls was definitely not my mother. I observed her in the dimness of my room. She was tall, and wore a light blue dress with long sleeves and a poufy skirt that ended just above her ankles. It looked heavy, but she stood with such elegance that I would have thought it weighed not an ounce. She regarded me with tenderness before speaking.

"I see you've woken up – or rather fallen asleep." She spoke in such a soothing way, that I nearly forgot my panic. Nearly.

"Who are you?" I asked her.

"Well, I suppose I should introduce myself," she said, drawing the drapes. Sunlight gushed into the room, and I could see her more clearly. "I'm Alice Kingsleigh."

I gave a small "Oh!" in reply and furrowed my brow. "But I thought it all a dream."

"Oh, but it is a dream of some sorts," she said, leaning against my bed frame. "It's another realm you enter through dreams."

"But I thought dreams were just rapid eye movements?" I muttered, feeling silly.

"And the heart is just a pump," Alice said gamely. "But you see, it's not just a pump. There are things we know of that we cannot fathom with our little heads. Of course, we're much to haughty to admit that we don't know anything. Now, Jane, come along and get dressed, or you'll miss breakfast." She gestured over to the wardrobe and left the room.

"Well," I said to myself, "if it's all a dream, there's no harm playing along." The truth was that I had already began to believe in the letter I had read the dream before, however, I had not _decided_ to believe just yet. After all, I lived in the twenty first century, and I had long abandoned fairy tales and the guilty pleasures of fantasy novels. I had been convinced that they didn't make sense. Of course, Papa's obsession with Sherlock Holmes never did either, not until now.

I shook the thoughts out of my head and padded to the wardrobe. I pulled the knob, and its doors opened to reveal a dozen dresses that seemed to have been pulled out of numerous vintage films. "Well, of course they would be!" I chided myself. "Alice had lived ages ago." I pulled out a high collared emerald green gown. It was soft to the touch, and surprisingly light. I slipped out of my pyjamas and into the gown. I sighed. This dream would be much harder to forget. I walked out of my room and tried not to trip on my skirt. Since I had always been a fan of pants, this was not an easy task.

I found myself standing quite alone in the carpeted hallway. There were banners hanging from the ceilings, checkered black and white. "Hello?" I called out. Confident footsteps echoed my way, and an agreeable man smiled at me. He had a cane in his left hand, and a hat in his right. His blonde hair was tied neatly at the nape of his neck.

"Jane, pleasure to meet you," he hooked his cane on his arm and extended his hand. I took it. "Jasper Fairclough, your great great grandfather. Don't mind the leg, I had my fair share of adventures as a Dreamer – that's what we call ourselves, you see, the cursed ones who can travel through dreams. Shall we head on to breakfast?" Great great grandfather offered me his arm. I hooked mine in his, and we strode down the long hallway together.

"If you're my great great grandfather, and Alice is my great great great grandmother, then why are you still here? Ought you be dead and in heaven or something by now?"

"Ah, well the curse is a tricky thing, Jane. We are in fact dead – at least in our dimension we are – but our souls are trapped here – in the in between place – because the curse has yet to be broken."

"In between place?" I said in a light voice.

"Yes, the in between place. You see, after we die, in our realm, we pass on into the next – heaven or hell or the afterlife if you will – as ourselves. But this curse that has forced us to live our life in our world and in another world, linked by the passage called dreams, is precisely the reason we can't pass on. For in which world does our soul belong in?"

"But shouldn't you be able to age and pass on in _both _worlds?" I asked.

"Well, that's what _I _had thought as well, but it seems like time is a devil in the in between place. Our spirits don't truly move with time, except in a loop. Yes, things can progress, and nothing seems to repeat itself, but it does not move _forward_ either. If we were confined to one dimension, we would live out our days, then our bodies will lay in our graves and our spirits move onward – but here, oh, our spirits are sent here. How can we move onward?"

"I still don't get it."

"Don't you fret, darling, I hardly get it either! Of course, reality does not necessitate understanding of it. I could not pass into the afterlife because of this vile curse – the angel told me himself when I had tried. Mother – your great great great grandmother – had tried many times to find a way out, but to no avail. We're stuck here, we are, until someone can break this curse."

"Oh, how dreadful," I muttered as we entered the dining room.

Great great great grandmother Alice ushered us over. "Isn't it a wonder that I look a good ten years older than my mother?" Great great grandfather Jasper said, kissing his mother on the cheek. "Well, Jane, don't dawdle, have a seat!"

"Over here, Jane," Alice said in her calm manner. "We've got lots to talk about."

I nodded and sat next to Alice. "So do I have to call you great great great grandmother?"

Alice chuckled. "No, silly, just Alice is fine, or Aunt Alice, whichever you prefer. The same goes with Jasper – you can call him uncle."

I pursed my lips. "Are you really here? Your spirits? Inside my head while I'm dreaming? Or are you both just memories?"

"This isn't in your head, silly," Uncle Jasper exclaimed. "It's in another dimension. Like, like you've teleported to another world. Really, I think you've lost your imagination the way _you're _looking at me. Is it so hard to believe what's right in front of you?"

"Well, you must not lose your muchness," Aunt Alice said, considering me with her clear blue eyes. "You'll need it, Jane."

"Yes, why, you may just be the descendant who sets us free!"

"Jasper, let's not count our chicks before they hatch," Aunt Alice chided. "Jane, you see, books are real, and so are the characters in them – just as there are other dimensions out there that we have no knowledge about whatsoever."

"So then, I'm not in Earth anymore?"

"Well, you are, physically," Uncle Jasper said. "But your essence – your spirit – is not. Not even in the Milky Way!"

"Of course, whatever injuries your spirit would acquire here would be reflected on your physical state out there when you wake," Aunt Alice explained. "I once awoke with a bruise round my cheek after an excursion in Underland. It was a curious thing."

"Which is why we try to keep alive in these other dimensions – fancy yourself waking next to your wife with a fatal wound!"

"Oh," I managed.

"Well, you understand _now, _don't you, Jane?" Uncle Jasper prodded.

"Of course she understands, Jasper, she's not daft," Aunt Alice said, amused.

"Well, we don't know that for sure. Although, I must admit, no Dreamer has ever been daft, but one can't be too certain," Uncle Jasper shot me an apologetic glance. "And I mean that in the best way possible."

"I am certainly not daft," I began to protest, but held my tongue.

"She certainly hasn't lost her muchness either," Aunt Alice said, her voice playful.

After breakfast, Aunt Alice took me to the garden. "Will I be staying here, Aunt Alice? In Wonderland – I mean Underland?"

"Well, technically, this isn't Underland. I haven't been to Underland for many many years. The last thing I did there was write that letter to you, in fact. That was the last day I had spent in Underland. Of course, I must explain. You remember falling down the rabbit hole?" I nodded. "Well, this is the in between place. You could say it's a passageway to other worlds."

"Like in Narnia?" I asked inquisitively.

"Oh, yes, I haven't read those books, for it was written past my own time. Your grandmother, Caroline mentioned something about it when she was here last."

"They don't come back then? The others?" I bit my lip, thinking of Papa.

"Not when the curse has been passed on, and not until they pass away," Aunt Alice said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. We walked through the garden in silence after that. I was lost in my own mullings, and Aunt Alice was blissfully admiring the flowerbed.

I retreated to my room after lunch to mull over all the information I had been given. I pinched myself. A red blotch had formed on my arm. It was all so real. I shook my head. "Jane, get a hold of yourself. Fairy tales aren't real."

I got up and decided to take a walk around the in between place. "Nothing can truly hurt me here," I said aloud, assuring myself. I walked aimlessly through the halls. It was like navigating through a labyrinth of nooks and crannies. The banners were different in each hall. The one I had come from had been checkered, but the one I found myself standing under was glittering in silver. I wandered far from my own room until I found myself in a library. I was looking through the different books, when I caught sight of a name I recognized. "Susan Pevensie," I muttered, and took it out of its shelf. The leather binding was crisp. I opened the book, and a date appeared in the corner. _The Spring of 1940. _Suddenly, I was engulfed in flashes of events, as if I were remembering them for myself. I saw the lamp post, and Peter, and Aslan, and I _felt _– oh the things I felt! A pair of hands pried the book from me and slammed it shut.

"It's not prudent to be too curious, Jane," Uncle Jasper towered in front of me.

"But that was –"

"Susan Pevensie. She's real – one of the other Dreamers. The kind who aren't under a curse and can rest in peace when they die."

"But she was in Narnia for years!" Panic gripped my throat. "I can't be here for years!"

"We cannot control how long we stay in the other dimension," Uncle Jasper hesitated before sighing. "Follow me, it's time Mother and I sent you off."

"Send me off? To where?" I asked, perplexed and frustrated.

"To your assigned realm, of course," Uncle Jasper looked at me, amused. "You didn't think you were going to stay here for long, did you?"

What Aunt Alice had told me in the garden came rushing back, and I felt a blush creep to my cheeks. "Oh," was all I could say.


	3. 3: Entering The Realm

Author's Note: Once again, I do not take credit for the works of C.S. Lewis, Tim Burton, Lewis Caroll, Queen JK Rowling, Ted Dekker, and the lovely Tumblr person who I got the cover photo from.

I really do hope that you'll enjoy it. It was a pleasure to write.

Anyway, here's the third chapter!

...

Chapter 3

...

Entering The Realm

...

I followed Uncle Jasper into the dining room where Aunt Alice sat. She looked up at us, and the crease in between her eyebrows had smoothed out. She smiled. "Right on time for tea," she called out.

"Actually, Mother, I just found Jane wandering in the old library. Going down – er – memory lane. I do think it's time to send her off."

"So soon?" Alice pursed her lips. "But she's hardly ready. We still have so much to tell her!"

"No sensible person is ready enough for all that is to come. We can prepare her no better than we prepared ourselves. We don't even know what realm she is to enter. There's no better time, Mother," he urged.

"Very well," Aunt Alice sighed. "Come along." She stood elegantly and strode out the dining room. I followed her out, with Uncle Jasper beside me wearing a rather smug grin.

Aunt Alice took us back to the old library and gestured around her. "These books contain each Dreamer's memories – both in the human realm, and in the realm which they find themselves in. See, look, we've got a shelf. I'm there, Jasper's there, and you're there too."

I glanced at my name. "So, what realm am I to enter?" Aunt Alice and Uncle Jasper exchanged a glance. I braced myself for what they were about to say.

"We aren't quite sure," Aunt Alice whispered. My jaw dropped. "You see, the curse is a sly thing. The curse brings us to the realm it deems appropriate. We can't choose."

"Well, technically, we can – indirectly, of course," Uncle Jasper joined in. "You see, Mother required courage in our realm, and so she was brought to Underland. I required empathy, for I was a terribly disagreeable child, so I was brought to a realm where demons controlled humankind. Your grandmother required a reason to value her humanity, thus she was sent to Dracula. When she became a vampire, she realized how much she loved being human. Your father required a reason to settle down, and was sent to the realm of Sherlock Holmes, where there was never a dull moment to see the value of a peaceful life."

"So you see, Jane, what we need most dictates where we head off to."

I shook my head and pressed my eyes shut. "What kind of a curse aims to _help _you become a better person?"

"It's not the _curse_, Jane," Uncle Jasper said. "It's our reaction to it."

"You see," Aunt Alice said, putting her hand on my shoulder. "The curse acts as a catalyst. It gives us the ability to achieve what we desire most – although in the most frightening way possible."

"But I don't _know _what I desire the most."

"You don't have to." Aunt Alice stared at me with her clear blue eyes – eyes, I realized that matched Papa's eyes as well as mine. If genetics dictated who would inherit the curse, then it would explain Henry's avoidance of it. He had brown eyes. Aunt Alice's determined nod pulled me out of my realization. "You mustn't lose your muchness, dearest Jane, not now."

"Yes, if _you_ were to break the curse, then all will be well! We'll be able to pass on like normal spirits do," Uncle Jasper quipped.

"Jasper," Aunt Alice said warningly before softening her expression. "Although I too am looking forward to the day I can face my Maker – for these realms are nothing compared to what truly lies ahead."

I stared at the both of my ancestors. Their faces were brimming with so much hope, but held so much anguish. At that moment, I chose to believe in it all. How could I not, when I could feel in my heart and see with my eyes that this was real?

Aunt Alice waved Uncle Jasper away and took me back to my room. "Jane, once you go into the other realm, you won't be able to come back here – not unless something terrible's happened to you. Jasper and I will be monitoring your progress, of course. That's what we use those books back in the library for.

"Once you enter the realm, a ripple effect will take place. You will certainly change the course of things where you are headed, there's no denying it. When sent, you can't just sit in the background like a wallflower – the curse makes sure that our dreams turn into nightmares quickly. You must play your part."

"Do I need an alibi? Won't they all wonder where I've come from?" I asked.

"Yes, I suppose they will. In Underland, I didn't have much trouble with it, but Jasper seemed to raise some suspicion. In that case, you'll have your own alibi, just like your father did."

"Papa? How did he do that?" I asked.

"It wasn't him," Aunt Alice said matter of factly. "It was the realm. It implanted memories within his mind, as if he had been living in the other realm all his life, for he had been transported to the other world in the form of an eight year old. After that, the realm conjured up his parents from his _memory_. He was pining for them, you see. This was cruel of course, because there was a link created between _their _souls in the human realm and in the other realm."

"That's why when Grandfather had died in Sherlock Holmes," realization flashed across my face. "Grandfather died."

"Yes," Aunt Alice whispered.

"But if I were to think of imaginary people as my parents – shouldn't the realm comply?" I wondered aloud.

"It should. Jasper had done it."

"And if I were to think of you?" I turned to her.

"Then I suppose, since I no longer have a link with the human realm, that I should appear. Not only as a replica, but as myself entirely."

"Could I do so? Would you be able to come back?"

"It has yet to be done, my dear Jane, so I don't quite know the answer. However, I do think that I should be able to. I am bound in the in between world, after all, so I assume I should naturally be drawn back when you didn't need an alibi," Aunt Alice stared whistfully at me. "Though I should love the change of scenery. The gardens can only keep me entertained for so long." She gave me an encouraging pat. "Rest a while before we send you off, dear Jane."

I did not need to be told twice. I was eager to return to my own world where all I had to worry about was the next exam. I scampered to my bed and shut my eyes, feeling the weight of the curse on my shoulders.

"We're counting on you, Jane," I heard Aunt Alice whisper as she shut the door. I shut my eyes, feeling more exhausted than ever.

_A rushing feeling, like being sucked into a vortex overtook me. I fought the urge to scream._

My eyes fluttered open as I heard loud snips near my ears. I groaned and ran my hand through my ha–what on earth? I sat up quickly and glanced at my shoulders. Where was my hair?

"Glad to know you're up, Jane," I heard a deep voice next to me. "It's not easy to cut hair while you're sleeping."

"Henry March!" I glared at him. "What did you do to my hair?"

He held his hands up in surrender. "Look, you mentioned a week ago that you wanted to cut your hair. Mum just sent me to do the deed."

My mouth hung open in shock. "In my sleep? Why? Why the bloody hell did you have to do that? Did you want me to wake up in a sea of my own curly hair and wonder if it was all just falling off?"

"Calm down, Jane, look, it looks fine," Henry chuckled and handed me a mirror. I stared at my face in the mirror. It looked more angular, with soft ringlets brushing against my cheeks and jaw. My bangs fell right before my brow, and curled inward. I felt my anger subside. "It's not even that short, see?"

"I'll admit, it does have a certain retro charm."

"And you can see your neck, that doesn't often happen–ouch! No shoving! Now you look like Keira Knightley, you know, when she did have that short bob cut."

"Oh please, Keira Knightley's hair was straight, and she did not have bangs at the time."

"Katy Perry, then – no, no Natalie Portman! There, she had bangs."

"They're all too pretty! Regardless of the bangs. I like what you did with mine, by the way. When did you ever learn to cut hair?"

He shrugged. "You could be pretty, if you could get your nose out of your books for once – hey, no shoving!"

"Well, you sure have a knack for all this glitz and glamour."

"It's not difficult," he said matter of factly. "I'm a design graduate."

I ruffled his dark mane. "Thanks."

"No problem–I'll clean up," he said as I began sweeping my long hair off the bed. "We're donating this, remember? To cancer kids."

"Oh," I said, shocked. My brother was often forgetful. "I didn't think you would remember."

He smiled. "I have my reasons. By the way, your professor called. He says he'll meet you at that jazz cafe."

I groaned and checked my watch. It was half past seven. I gasped, and rushed to the shower. I was dressed in five minutes, and out the door in less. I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder and rushed to catch the metro. Fortunately, I slipped in the train before the doors had shut. I let out a sigh. I looked down at my shirt, realizing it read "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." I groaned. Professor Fiddle would not be amused. My timing was never more perfect.

I got to the jazz cafe a few minutes before the appointed time. Professor Fiddle was seated at one of the outdoor tables and waved at me. There was a young man with alarmingly red hair seated next to him. His glasses had fogged up when he took a sip from his mug.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Professor." I muttered.

"A wizard is never late, nor is he early," the young man smiled at me, and continued, "he arrives precisely when he means to."

"Is this where you tell me I'm a wizard?" I countered. I was shocked that a boy of my age could actually make a Tolkien reference without batting an eyelash.

Professor Fiddle cleared his throat. "Ms Jane March, I'd like you to meet Mr Joseph Liam Page. He's our transfer student from San Francisco."

"Please, just call me Joe," the young man extended his hand. I shook it.

"Jane. Pleasure to meet you."

"Ms March, you must be aware that you are among, if not the only, exceedingly talented students in my class. Therefore, I am no longer requiring you to attend my lectures for the semester. Instead, I would like you and Mr Page to work on a personal project of mine, well funded of course."

An uneasy feeling was lodging itself in my stomach. Professor Fiddle's projects were always the talk of the town. He had strange ideas about how world literature ought to be. He wasn't the type to make _papers _as studies, no, he thought they were degrading and mundane. Only God knew what he was scheming at the present moment. I glanced at Joe. He seemed completely relaxed, like a young boy wondering what his mother would serve for dinner that evening. His little facade would crack in a bit.

"Well?" Professor Fiddle stared at me expectantly. "Wouldn't you like to know what the project is?"

"Sure," I said hesitantly.

"Well, you know that the classic novels are not as popular as they ought to be, and I figured, since kids now are so into photography, I'd have you two create a photo blog depicting turning points in each novel."

I was about to cringe before realizing that it wasn't a horrible idea. In fact, he had peaked my curiosity. "Which novels would you like us to focus on?"

"Well, you know, Dickens, Tolstoy, Austen, Orwell – you're well aware of them, Ms March. Mr Page here is a photographer, well, he's studying communications, but here you both are! So, get to it! I'm expecting great things from you."

Professor Fiddle stood and left me with Joe. I stared from across the table. He stared back.

"So, Harry Potter?" He asked. I looked at him bewildered before understanding. I felt a blush creep up my neck.

"Yeah," I smiled. "British pride too."

"I noticed." He took a long draw from his mug."Your eyes are interesting. They look like the kind of ocean you can see through, like clear waters."

I smiled. "It runs in the family." He wouldn't understand the reference, but he smiled politely anyway.

"So why Portland?"

I shrugged. "My parents never did explain. I suppose England wasn't their cup of tea." I saw the corners of his mouth tug into a smirk. "And you? Why Portland?"

He paused, turning the question round in his head. Finally, he said, "it's peaceful." I yawned. He frowned and peered at me through his glasses. "Have you had much sleep?"

I shook my head, about to say that I was gallivanting all around the in between place all night with my ancestors, but decided against it. "No," I said instead. "Although I'm sure we've got pancakes and possibly waffles at my house. We can talk there."

He nodded. "I'll get my car."

"You have a car?" I felt like someone had punched me.

"Yeah," he gave me a confused stare as he stood. He was tall. "Doesn't everyone?"

I shook my head incredulously and followed after him. As soon as I ducked into his sedan, and gave him my address, I felt myself drifting back to sleep.

The sun began to set when Aunt Alice knocked on my door. I rolled out of bed and sighed. Would I ever feel rested again?

"It's time, Jane," her melodic voice rang out. I hopped out of bed and tucked my short hair behind my ears. Smoothing down my skirt, I stepped out of the room, almost colliding with Aunt Alice's raised hand. "Nice hair," she said before turning around and leading me down the hall. The path we took twisted and turned until we stood facing a row of odd doors.

"Are these the passageways?" I asked.

"Portals to the other dimensions," Aunt Alice whispered. "You can't open one that doesn't lead to your destined realm, so you'll just have to keep trying until a knob turns."

I stepped out in front of a little green door and tried to turn the knob. It wouldn't budge. I turned to look at Aunt Alice, but her eyes looked away, lost in thought. I took the next door to my right. It was tall and had a gold frame, but a brass handle. I had to reach up to grasp the handle, and even so, I couldn't seem to open the door. I huffed and proceeded to the next door. This one had a pointed archway, and a golden frame that looked like that of a portrait. The knob was small, barely the size of my fist. I turned it, and felt the lock click. Aunt Alice seemed to snap out of her daydream and rushed over to me.

"Good luck," she whispered before giving me a brief hug. I hugged her back, squeezing as tight as I could, as if my emotions could seep into her by mere touch. I didn't realize how much I had grown fond of her until I was about to go away. I wanted to thank her for being so kind to me. I wanted to tell her I was terrified. I wanted to ask her to come with me. I wanted to free her from this cage called the in between. Instead, I muttered a word of thanks and opened the door. I stepped into the blinding light, and felt myself being sucked upward, as if I were being shoved down a slide, only backwards. I shut my eyes, feeling air press against me from all sides. As suddenly as it came, the crushing pressure left, and I felt as light as air. I landed with a thud on my arse.

_Ouch! That hurt._

I rubbed my bum and propped myself up. I was sitting on a cold white floor, beside me there was a row of beds, where men and women were lying down. A kind lady leaned over at me and smiled. "Glad to see you awake, then!" I looked at her, perplexed. "Why, you were out cold, dear! After that muggle train crashed, we found you in the rubble, keeping a block from falling on you with magic!"

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember any of that," I said. "Where am I?"

"Poor girl, can't even remember the accident! Why, you're at St Mungo's, of course! Where else would you be?"

I felt the color drain from my face. I knew where I was. I probably shouldn't have worn that shirt back in my own realm this morning, that must have been what got me here. I looked down at myself and suppressed the urge to scream. Where was my flawed nineteen year old body? Instead, I found my limbs shorter, and my curves gone, and myself too skinny. I was proud of never being skinny!

"Excuse me," I asked, rubbing my temple. "What year is it?"

"It's 1991, of course," she said. "April 15. Never you mind that, come along, and eat something. You need your strength back before I'll let you go."

All I wanted to do was scream for Aunt Alice.


	4. 4: The Ministry's Enquiry

Author's Note: Hello, readers! I am faithfully updating my story, thus another chapter! You know how I love it when you guys read and give me feedback. I get giddy inside.

Again, I do not take credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Queen JK Rowling, Ted Dekker, and the lovely Tumblr person who I got the cover photo from.

Here's chapter 4, written with love. It took a little longer to write this, because a great deal of cannon information was needed. I did quite a bit of potter research for this. Enjoy!

...

Chapter 4

...

The Ministry's Enquiry

...

The healer had promptly commanded me back into bed, and had me drink a turquoise potion. She then went off to other errands and left me slouching on my bed. I was already planning an escape route from the hospital when the healer came back, whispering to a man in black robes. He gave her a curt nod and walked with a slight limp to the left side of my bed.

"Dear child," he began, not softening his expression. "Rufus Scrimgeour. I'm an auror. I'm truly sorry to have to whisk you away just when you awoke, but there is a Ministry trial regarding the incident, and it must proceed as planned. If you would get dressed, please," he nodded at the healer, who brought me a set of clothes. I scurried into the bathroom and pulled on the faded pair of jeans that were a few inches too short and a plain white T that was a size too big. I washed my face in the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Apparently, I had yet to hit puberty. My cheeks still had their youthful fullness. I looked down at my body. Was this really how I looked like back when I was ten?

I shrugged and stepped back out to meet Scrimgeour. A pair of ankle boots sat next to the bed, and I knelt to put them on. Scrimgeour was impatient. He seemed to wear a permanent frown as he led me out St. Mungo's. London was damp in the spring, and the moist air hit us right as we stepped out the hospital entrance. I hadn't realized how much I missed England. I trailed behind Scrimgeour as we made our way around London. We weaved our way through the crowds with ease. Teenagers walked in packs, laughing loudly, their eyes on each other instead of the electronic devices of the 21st century. Businessmen strode with a set jaw, bumping into anyone who got in their way. Scrimgeour stopped abruptly, and I nearly walked into him.

"Step in, please," he said, gesturing to an old red phone booth. I gave a yelp of recognition and followed his instructions. I watched as he put in a few coins and dialed '62442'.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, please state your name and your business," a female voice rang out from the phone box.

"Rufus Scrimgeour, Auror's Office," he said coolly. "Escorting Ms Jane Kingsleigh to the Investigation Trial."

I was about to correct him, when the voice replied. "Thank you," she said. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

A square silver badge was chucked out, reading _Jane Kingsleigh, Investigation Trial,_ on it. I sighed and pinned it to my shirt.

Suddenly, we were plummeting down into the ground. I held onto the ledge and bit my lower lip. The phone booth screeched to a stop and chucked us out into the Atrium. Scrimgeour shoved me lightly into an empty lift and pressed the button to level nine. I immediately realized where we were headed.

"Excuse me, sir," I said hesitantly. "Am I in trouble?"

Scrimgeour glanced at me and shook his head. "You are being brought forth as a witness."

"To what exactly?"

He looked at me with shock. "To the accident, of course. The muggle train from France to England was attacked by dark wizards three months ago. What else did you think this was for?"

Before I could respond, the lift's bell rung and Scrimgeour ushered me out. We descended a short flight of stairs into a hall with rough walls. Torches illuminated the corridor to the courtroom's heavy doors. Scrimgeour pushed it open and we made our way in. The benches were filled with wizards and witches in plum coloured robes, all of whom were chattering softly. I counted around twenty of them. This was obviously not a full trial, but it was serious enough to be held in the courtroom.

"Rufus, right on time!" My head shot up to find Dumbledore sitting as the Chief Warlock. He sat behind a raised desk, peering through his half moon spectacles. "Ms Kingsleigh, if you would please take your seat." It took me a moment to realize he was addressing me. I sat in the chair in the centre of the courtroom, nervously fidgeting as twenty pairs of eyes stared straight at me. I heard a soft cough to my right, and almost yelled aloud when my eyes fell upon a teenage Aunt Alice sitting right there in a high collared light blue coat. She gave me an encouraging smile.

"Right, shall we begin?" Professor Dumbledore said. A woman with a square jaw and a monocle nodded next to him. "Investigation Trial on the fifteenth of April concerning the muggle train catastrophe on the fifth of January, where dark magic caused the explosion of three train compartments, leading to the death of 23 muggles, 1 wizard, and injury of 7 muggles and 1 witch. The Wizengamot court calls forth Ms Jane Kingsleigh, daughter of the deceased wizard Samuel Kingsleigh and muggle Beth Kigsleigh, as witness against the defense.

"You are Ms Jane Kingsleigh, of Hampshire, England?" Dumbledore stared at me intently. I glanced over at Aunt Alice who gave me a nod.

"Yes, I-I suppose I am," I said.

"Ms Kingsleigh, were you on the train from Paris to London when dark magic caused the compartments to explode?"

"I–I suppose I was," I muttered.

Dumbledore's face softened. "Do you recall anything?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't remember what happened."

A few more wizards and witches asked me questions that I couldn't answer. They had clearly reached a dead end in the investigation.

"Very well, it seems we would only cause this child more pain by extending this trial," Dumbledore said. "Court Adjourned. Amelia?" he turned to the monocled witch. "Shall we take Ms Jane upstairs?"

"That's not necessary, Professor," Aunt Alice said as people began to trickle out of the room. "She's my cousin, sir, and my godchild."

Professor Dumbledore gave her a nod. "Very well, Alice. It's good to see you looking well."

Aunt Alice rushed to my side and hooked my arm in hers. "Come on," she whispered.

"Aunt Alice, what are you doing here?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I'm your _cousin _now, remember? Just Alice."

"Alice, then," I said as we walked up the stairs. "But what _are _you doing here?"

"When you had gone, I grew curious. I approached the door you had gone through and turned the knob. To my delight, it had clicked open. When I went through, I found myself in France, in 1984. I looked for you, but you were nowhere to be found. I thought that I had gone through the wrong door, you see. Then, I did a bit more thinking, and I supposed I was there to establish some sort of timeline before you arrived, so I attended the Beauxbatons Academy in the South of France and spent my summers in Romania to earn some money. The dragons here are quite similar to the jabberwocky in Underland. Of course, some of my schoolmates had attempted to trace my family roots. Apparently, there were Kingsleighs in Hampshire, and they were very happy to have a relation in Beauxbatons," we had reached the ninth floor, and rode the lift to the surface.

"I thought you couldn't leave the in between place, hadn't you said in your letter–"

"Yes, but I wrote that letter while I was still in _Underland_, when I hadn't understood quite as much of the realms as I do now. I had thought that Jasper would be able to help our other descendants, but I seem to have been mistaken as well."

"The Kingsleighs in Hampshire, were those who Professor Dumbledore had mentioned earlier?"

"Yes, Samuel and Beth. Apparently, my _uncle_ Samuel had married a muggle, and they had a daughter. I've always wanted a cousin. So, after Beauxbatons, I got a job at Obscurus Books as an editor, hoping to run into you in Diagon Alley. Then the awful train incident had happened, and you ended up in St. Mungo's."

"Right, so where do we head off to now?"

"Norfolk – I bought a little house just outside the city there, just for us."

"How are we getting there?" I asked.

"I thought of using floo powder, but I think you'd prefer to see the sights. We're riding the train." Alice pulled out two tickets from her pocket and winked at me. We hailed a cab and got to Kings Cross Station right on time. I tried to stay awake, but after viewing a bit of the countryside, I couldn't help myself.

_The vortex tugged at me, and I felt myself being sucked back into my own realm. _

Joe was shaking me lightly. "Sleeping beauty, we're here."

I snapped my eyes open, and propped myself up. Joe's face was so close to mine. He smiled. I felt a blush creep up on me. I unbuckled my seat-belt and muttered an apology. He just laughed. We entered my house, and our lungs were instantly filled with the heavenly scent of pancakes and strawberries. It was my turn to smile.

"Come on," I said, taking him by the arm. "Breakfast is in the kitchen." I felt him chuckle behind me.

Papa and Mum were quite surprised to see me tugging a boy into the house. I had never exactly had anyone over before, not even Raph.

"And who is this strapping young lad?" Papa eyed Joe suspiciously from the breakfast table.

Joe held out his hand. "Joe, sir. I'm working on a project with Jane."

Papa shook his hand and nodded. "Well, don't just stand there, sit down. I hope you like pancakes." I flopped myself down next to Papa and pulled Joe after me.

"Mum has the best strawberry pancakes in the entire universe."

"She's exaggerating," Mum said, setting a fresh batch in front of us. "But I do expect you to eat it. Just a minute, Henry seems to have overslept."

The phone rang, and Papa stood to pick it up, leaving Joe and me alone.

"So, about that project," I began, pouring myself a tall glass of orange juice.

"Right, let's steer away from all the Disney adapted classics."

"Alright," I said. "What about film adaptations?"

"Yes, it's better we keep off those as well."

"So we're left with the long difficult novels."

"Afraid so. We could start with A Tale of Two Cities, say, this weekend?"

Papa came back into the room wearing a glum face. "Jane, that was Grandma Caroline. Great grandfather Samuel just passed away."

My face paled. A Samuel had died in the other realm too. "When?"

"Last night, in his sleep. We'll be going to England for the weekend to attend the funeral. If you'll excuse me," he sighed before leaving the room.

I nodded and shot Joe an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Joe, I guess we can't do this weekend."

He shrugged. "We could. I've always wanted to see England."

I stared at him wide eyed. "How much money do you have?"

"As much as anyone does."

"No, not everyone can just decide to go to England for the weekend."

He smiled sheepishly. "I've got a bit of money."

"You're kidding, aren't you?"

"No, England is the perfect place to shoot."

"But we're going to Glasgow, not London."

"It doesn't matter."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I huffed. "Fine, but you'll have to go with us to the funeral."

"All right," he said, taking a forkful of pancakes.

I glanced at my watch. "Sweet chili sauce, I've got class in a bit."

Joe choked on his orange juice. "Sweet chili sauce?"

"Yes," I said. "Got a problem with that?"

He shook his head. "Come on, I've got class in an hour so I'll take you there."

We finished breakfast and I grabbed my knapsack. Joe struck up a conversation while he was driving, keeping me from falling asleep.

"When's your birthday?" he asked. I gave him a look, and he shrugged. "Can't I get to know you?"

"18th of December," I replied.

"That's this weekend," he said, his voice perking up.

"I know, it's no big deal," I shrugged. "When's your birthday?"

"Would you believe me if I said it was on the 18th of December?" He smiled at me.

"You're joking," I exclaimed. His eyes were dead set. "Oh my word, you're serious."

He nodded. "18th of December."

"And you're going to England to attend a funeral with us?"

"Well, I'm not exactly on good terms with my parents, so yes, I'd rather be out of the country."

"What happened with your parents?"

He cracked his neck. "My dad's a businessman back in San Francisco. We were quite well off. I used to go to university there. Then he started meddling in my life, you know, choosing which classes I ought to take, forcing me to work in the company, making me go along with him to meetings. I don't want all that. I want to be able to do my own thing. When he tried to sell my camera, I just lost it and transferred here."

"He wasn't too pleased, was he?"

"As pleased as a lion when a gazelle taunts him."

"Have you got much friends yet?"

He shrugged. "I'm not very good with people. They think I'm boring."

"Why is that?"

"I've always got my camera round my neck, and I do admit I tend to get too absorbed to notice anything else."

"Well, you and me both. I've always got my nose in a book."

"Don't all you literature majors do that?"

I shook my head as he pulled into a parking space. "You would think that."

"Really, when you think you have the world all figured out..." he rubbed his neck. "Hey, call me after class, all right? I'll take you to dinner."

"Like a date?"

He blushed. "Yeah, a date. If you want to."

I stared at him, wide eyed. Only then did I notice that he was quite handsome, even with the spray of freckles on his nose. He had a sharp jaw, and a warm smile, and his eyes had an intensity about them behind his thickly framed spectacles. His flaming red hair only amplified his strange aura of charm.

"But I haven't got your number," I said.

"It's in your knapsack. I slipped it in while you were sleeping."

I fumbled through my knapsack until the said piece of paper was in my hand. I grinned at him. "Clever."

"Hey, don't let your imagination run wild, all right? I've never asked a girl out before."

I laughed. "I've never been asked out on a date before, so no, I will not be expecting anything."

"Alright then," he grinned. "I'll see you."

"That you will," I said before hopping out of his car.


	5. 5: The Oddness Called Time

A/N: Hello, doves! I feel very cheerful today, but I have no idea why. Anyway, I do appreciate it when you comment and read. You make a writer want to write all day! Alas, I am barely able to do so. In fact, I've got an exam to study for!

Again, I take no credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Tim Burton, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker. The recipes in this chapter are actually from a blog I follow – Joanne Eats Well With Others. Her recipes are scrumptious!

Here is chapter five!

...

Chapter 5

...

The Oddness Called Time

...

I dialed Joe's number after my class on literary analysis. He picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?" he said, a bit flustered.

"Hi," I said. "It's Jane."

"Jane, hi, I just got out of class."

"Me too," I bit my lip, realizing that I was grinning like a madman. "I'm in the park, near the concert hall."

"I'll meet you there in ten. Minutes, I mean."

I laughed. "Alright. See you in ten."

"Minutes," he whispered before hanging up.

I sat on a bench and pulled out a book. A fresh layer of snow had just fallen, and I was enjoying the frigid weather. There was just something endearing about the winter, as if you could see the true warmth in people through their coats. I had barely opened my book when someone tugged fiercely at my hair. "Ouch, that _hurt,_" I said as I snapped my head around. "Raph!"

"What happened to your hair?" he moved to grab my hair again. I slapped his hand away.

"Watch the tone," I glared at him. "There's a better was to greet me, you know."

"Not if you forgot to send me your paper last night. Professor Fiddle's gonna kill me! I've got twenty minutes to do it, so hand it over."

"Your paper is _not _my responsibility, Raph! Here, have my paper then! I don't have to go to his classes anymore."

Raph cursed. "Did he kick you out of his class?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, he assigned me to one of his projects."

"Oh?" Raph's interest peaked. "What project?"

"None of your business, Raph, now go do your paper or you'll have to retake the class!"

Raph raised his hands in surrender and ran off. Seriously, how could he be so irresponsible? I retrieved my book from the bench and brushed snow off its pages.

"You look upset," Joe said casually. I spun around, nearly hitting him with the book in my hand.

"Sorry," I blurted out. "It's nothing, shall we go?"

He grinned at me and offered his arm. I hooked a gloved hand in it, and we made our way around the downtown area. I didn't need my coat to feel warm, for my heart was filled with such a steady flame. I stared up at Joe, knowing that he was the cause of this strange sensation. He caught me staring, and I turned away.

"Have I got something stuck on my face?" he teased.

I shook my head and glanced back up at him. "It's nothing."

He gave me a mischievous grin and broke out into a run, taking my hand in his. I gasped as the cool air collided with our faces. He laughed melodically and gave me a wink. I rolled my eyes. It stunned me that I could not predict Joe as I could have predicted other human beings. It surprised me further that the feeling inviting itself into my chest was not that of heart-racing madness, but that of a constant warmth – the kind you tend to day in and day out only to look at it and say, _well, haven't you grown! _

Joe slowed when we reached an intersection. Our faces were red from exercise. I smirked at him. "Where are we going exactly?"

"I have no idea," he replied breathless. I looked into his eyes for traces of humour. They were glinting with glee, but they were completely serious.

"You've gone mad," I exclaimed.

"I'm afraid so. I'm entirely bonkers," he laughed. "But let me tell you a secret. All the best people are."

He was so close to me now. His cheek was brushing against my hair, and I could feel his warm breath blowing at it. I couldn't hide my smile. I go weak for men who quote literature. No, that's not right, I go weak when _Joe _quotes literature. I swipped his glasses from his sharp nose and tucked them in my pocket.

"Hey," he protested. "I can't see without those."

"Then just trust me," I teased. _This way is better,_ I thought. _Now he can't see me blush!_

Joe was squinting. "I can't make out the street. I trust you, but I have a knack of stopping at the worst moments."

I took Joe's hand and led him to a restaurant tucked in between a sports bar and a retail store. It was my favorite place in the whole city, for on my first week arriving from England, I found myself lost. A kind artist pointed me into this place, saying I could read in peace _over in that hobbit's hole. _I had been a regular ever since.

"We're here," I murmured, handing Joe back his glasses. He squinted and put them back on. "Do you like it?"

"And here I thought _I _was bringing you out on the date," he chuckled.

"I'll assume that means yes," I said as a waitress waved us to a dimly lit table at the back of the room. "They serve the best pasta here, and you can hardly believe that the ingredients could actually go together so well! You can even create your own – out of the ingredients they have at least. They put out a list of what they've got to spare every month, it's that board sticking out of the menu."

Joe flipped through the menu and smiled. "There's a pasta here called _What Ronald Weasley Would Order_, have you tried that?"

"Even better," I grinned proudly. "I made it."

"Seriously?" His shoulders began to quake from laughter. "You could have thought of a better _name_. Like _The Order of Ron Weasley_, or something."

I frowned. "Now I wish I _had_ thought of that."

"What's in it?"

"Chicken, of course," I pursed my lips. "basil, garlic, sun dried tomatoes, and I think some figs, all tossed together in pumpkin sauce."

"Pumpkin sauce? That does sound brilliant, though," he said thoughtfully. "How 'bout this, I'll make your pasta, and you'll make mine."

I sat a bit straighter and eyed him gamely. "You're on, Joseph Liam Page."

He winked and pulled out the ingredients board. He could wink without contorting the rest of his face. I found it adorable. I felt quite cross that I couldn't do the same. I dropped my eyes to look over the menu. Winter brought about a range of new ingredients, often overlooked in the warmer seasons. There were brussel sprouts and oranges, and parsnips and avocados. I peeked over at Joe, who was scribbling on a table napkin. He caught me looking and covered it with his hand.

"No cheating," he scolded. I took a pen out of my pocket and began to craft a recipe. It was difficult to choose from such a range of ingredients, but I enjoyed the challenge. I decided on creating a penne dish with black kale, parsnips, onions, red wine, thyme, some cheese, a spritz of lemon, and some sausage chunks. I suppose it was because Joe reminded me so much of the vibrant spring, that I couldn't craft him a truly winter dish.

The waitress came over, and we handed her our table napkins, explaining our little experiment. She took our orders with an amused grin and sauntered off to the kitchens.

"So," I said, taking a gulp of water. "What did you make me?"

"You can't ask me, it'll ruin the surprise! Plus," Joe frowned. "I can't remember it all."

"Well, then give me a hint," I scrunched my nose up. "Unless you've created something so terribly vile."

"I should hope not! All right, I'll give you a hint. It's like you–serene, yet vibrant. Cool yet invigorating."

"That's hardly a clue," I said.

"Well, aren't you going to give me a clue?" Joe looked at me expectantly.

I smiled. "It's like you–like a classy picnic on a fine spring day."

"With or without the spring rain?"

I laughed. "The moments right before the shower."

Just then, the waitress cleared her throat and set our dishes before us. I bit my lip, concealing a smile. My bowl was filled with what looked like kale, with red chunks of fruit blending with the rigatoni pasta. I looked closer. _The sly dog added walnuts! _I took a forkful.

"These are cranberries!" I gasped. Joe smiled.

"You like it then?"

"Who knew you had such good taste in food," I muttered with food still in my mouth. "Well, go on, aren't you going to taste my creation?"

"It looks a bit daunting, actually," he smirked before taking a forkful. He cocked up his brow. "Parsnips? And do I detect lemon infused with red wine?"

"Well? Do you like it?"

He winked, making me melt. "As much as the sky likes being blue."

"Well, the sky can't help being blue, it doesn't mean it likes it!" I exclaimed.

"It does," he said matter of factly.

"Did it tell you so?"

"Yes," Joe took another bite. "In fact, it did."

He walked me home after dinner, buying us ice cream on the way. He was definitely an oddball to have wanted ice cream in the middle of December. But I suppose _I _was the oddball for only feeling warmer. Upon arriving at my doorstep, our cheeks were flushed from the cold, but our eyes livid from each other's company.

"Jane," he whispered as he dropped his head. "I must tell you. I want to kiss you, but I won't."

"You don't have to kiss me, Joe, we're not in a movie," I chuckled in spite of myself.

"No, it's not that," he turned his warm eyes at me. "I just think you're special, and I want to see where this is going–if it's going anywhere, that is–before anything like sloppy kisses get in the way of things."

"Does this mean you're asking me out on a second date?" I grinned.

Joe ran his hands through his hair. "Among other things," he smirked sheepishly. "Well, is it all right?" I punched him lightly on the arm.

"Of course it's alright," I said, wanting to add _as long as it's you, I'm quite certain almost anything will be. _But I restrained myself. I could feel Papa's eyes from the window, and so I bid Joe goodbye and headed inside where Papa barraged me with a ton of questions. No, we did not hold hands. No, we did not kiss. Yes, he was a perfect gentleman. Yes, he paid for dinner. No, he did not make crass jokes. Papa seemed apt to keep me there all night, so I made my excuses and went to bed.

I awoke to Alice's soothing voice, telling me we had arrived. I was about to tell her that her voice worked better as a lullaby than as an alarm, when she pulled me to my feet.

"Did you have a good sleep?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I was in our realm," I said, suddenly grinning. "I went on a date."

"Oh," Alice said knowingly. "And is this a special sort of man?"

"Yes," I nodded. "You'd like him."

"I'm sure I would."

"When did you get married, Alice?"

"When I was but two and twenty – and by then, my mother thought I would end up an old maid."

"Was he a special sort of man?"

Alice smiled as we disembarked the train and stepped out into the bustling city. "Yes, he was. When Father passed away, I was supposed to marry his business successor's son, but he was such a dull lad! I'm glad I hadn't lost my muchness, or I would have agreed to marry him. I became his father's apprentice, and a few years later, I met a man who was as mad as a hatter. We got married only six months after. Mother was pleased."

The Muggles were making a beeline for the coast, for the day was rather warm and fit for swimming. We rode a bus from Norwich to Wells, where Alice had purchased a cottage someways off the road.

"It's far enough to keep us hidden," Alice said, pulling out her wand. It was a pretty thing, long and slender, with its hilt curling up like an angel's trumpet before bloom. We were standing in front of a dark gate that was covered in ivy. It enclosed a small cottage and a vast garden, but I couldn't get a good look at it past all the vines. Alice tapped the gate twice and pulled me through it. Little stone steps led us up to the charming cottage, and I heard Alice sigh wistfully. "It's good to be home," she whispered before unlocking the door.

The sun was setting in the horizon, and I felt exhausted. Living two lives was a tiring feat! However one could manage it without going completely mad was beyond me.

"Alice," I said, following her into the sitting room. "Great Grampa Samuel just passed away. We're supposed to go to England this weekend to attend his funeral."

Alice gave me a sad smile. "I'm sorry to hear that. Although, I suppose he'll be happy to see Jasper again."

"Aren't you a little more upset about it?" I asked.

"Well," she said, ushering me to the kitchen. "I would have been, if I were still living in _our _world, but you see, Jane, death is just a transition to something greater. It's not really the end."

"Oh, I see," I managed. "But then where do we go after death? I mean, if the curse hadn't bound us to the in between place?"

"I'd like to think we'd be heaven bound," Alice said as she pulled a pot onto the stove. "Of course, others don't think the same, but when you're a Dreamer, you tend to have more faith. Now, Jane, go wash up while I make supper. Your room is up the stairs, on the left. There are only three doors, so I don't think it should be too difficult to find."

I nodded and scurried up the stairs. The wooden steps creaked ever so slightly under my boots. The second floor was shaped in a half-dome, and had a door on each side – one to the left, one to the right, and one right in the middle. I faced the left door and turned the knob.

The room I found myself in was neat and spacious, with a large bed in the middle and a wardrobe next to the bathroom. The left wall was replaced by a French window, its sill cushioned to act as a window seat. I threw off my clothes in the bathroom and took a nice hot bath. The nutmeg scented foam felt soft to the touch, and I stayed in the tub until all the foam had gone out. It was still rather queer to look at myself in the mirror and find that I had grown younger rather than older, but I was getting used to it.

I pulled on a clean shirt and a pair of beige jeans before throwing the window open and sitting on its sill, watching the sun set over the horizon. I leaned my head against its panels and closed my eyes, willing sleep to overtake me.

There was no vortex this time around, and I awoke to find myself still staring out into the English coast. It had grown darker, and the scent of Alice's stew had made its way to my window. I padded down the stairs, wondering why I hadn't gone back to my own realm. As if reading my own mind as I entered the dining room, Alice sat me down and asked, "you didn't go back did you?"

I shook my head. "No, I slept rather well, actually."

Alice handed me a bowl filled with meat, potatoes and carrots. "Well, at least you've got a bit of rest."

"What if I don't go back?" I asked, taking in a spoonful of stew.

"Well," Alice said thoughtfully, "you'll have to return sometime. But you've got to start thinking of your role in this realm too."

"It's 1991, is it?" I said, mostly to myself.

Alice nodded and scrunched her eyebrows. "Yes, do you know what book we're in?"

"It's a seven part series, actually," I bit my spoon. "Harry Potter."

"Oh!" Alice exclaimed. "He's that boy everyone's been talking about – the only one who survived the Killing Curse."

I nodded. "Yes, and defeated the Dark Lord. I suppose my role will involve him, then."

"Yes, I suppose so!" Alice exclaimed.

"B-but the book doesn't even begin until _July_! What am I supposed to do until then?" I said, exasperated.

"You must remember," Alice soothed. "You're being transported into an entire _realm_, it's not just where the book begins."

I shrugged. "How much does the realm change when we're added into the mix?"

"I'm not too sure," she whispered. Alice was already drifting away, lost in her own thoughts again. I ate the rest of my stew and brought it over to the sink to wash. "Oh, you don't need to do that, Jane," Alice said, pointing at the sink with her wand. "I can do it."

I watched as the sponge began scrubbing the plate fiercely, the soap bubbles being washed away by the faucet's running water. I turned to Alice, who was lazily swishing her wand around.

"I love magic," she said in her dreamy voice.

"I couldn't agree more," I muttered.

I had retired to bed that night, half hoping I wouldn't wake up in my own dimension. There was too much to think of back there – Great grampa Samuel's funeral, midterm exams, Henry moving. I much preferred to stay here for a few days. Fortunately, my half wish had been granted, and I woke up the next morning still in the Wizarding World. The morning after that was the same, and the next morning, and the next morning.

_What an odd thing time is!_ _Here I am, spending nearly a month in Norfolk, and then, all at once, I'll be back in my own room at home, just as though I've been there all along!_

I was taking a stroll in the back garden, for the roses had begun to bloom. They were white, and I had begun to wonder what it would be like to paint them when Alice called me in for breakfast.

"I'm taking you with me to Diagon Alley today," Alice said after setting a plate of eggs on the table. "It's better than being cooped up here all day, although I know you enjoy taking long walks around the garden."

I smiled. "Diagon Alley sounds perfect!" _And who knows, _I thought. _Maybe I'd meet a familiar character._


	6. 6: The Missing Piece

A/N: HI! Here's the next chapter, _very _Harry Potter based.

Again, I take no credit for the works of Tim Burton, Lewis Caroll, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker.

Here is chapter six!

...

Chapter 6

...

The Missing Piece

...

By the time Alice and I had arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, the pub was filled with people, for rain had begun to drench London. Fortunately, Alice had reminded me to wear a coat, lest I get soaked. Alice had charmed it to repel rain, so I mostly stayed dry. Unfortunately, it lacked a hood, and thus we were obliged to duck for cover every few steps.

"Alice, tell me about Great grampa Samuel and Great grandma Beth."

We had gone out the pub to the back alley. She shrugged, tapping a brick with her wand. "What's there to say? Samuel was a sweet grandson, but he was timid. He never wanted to go out and play, or read a book. Instead, he would just sit all alone until someone called him for supper. Then he became a Dreamer, and he went half mad. He married Beth, and I can assure you, it was one of his better moments. I hadn't lived to see him get better, but Jasper has said that Samuel became much more determined in his late years as a Dreamer."

"And Great grandma Beth?" I asked, as the brick wall before us opened up to form an archway. Diagon Alley was the Wizard's version of Rome's cobbled shopping streets - and just as crowded, too, although the crowds had subsequently retreated into the colorful stores and cafe patios to avoid the rain. I couldn't help but stand in shock at the plethora of magical items being displayed. "Is that a jar of worms moving around at that window?"

"No, I think those are caterpillars. Poor Absolom!" Alice exclaimed as she took my hand and pulled me forward. "Beth was sweet, and quite smart, but Jasper tells me her life was short lived. She died giving birth to Caroline."

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry I never got to meet her."

"Maybe in the future," Alice whispered.

"What do you mean?" I asked, but Alice had already moved on to her next thought.

"I've got to pop in the office for a bit," Alice said, ushering me out of the rain and into Flourish and Blotts. I gasped. Each inch of the bookstore seemed to be covered with books, and I felt my head spin in wonder. I looked up at Alice, feeling a tad bit small. She handed me a pouch filled with Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. I felt the weight of the wizard money against my tiny hand. "Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it."

I gave her a weak smile and she disappeared back into the Alley. In an instance, I realized I had no clue what would happen to me in the Wizarding World. I had always been able to _know _how things would work out somehow. I had _known _to take literature so I could be an editor. I had _known _to ride the metro to get to campus on time. But despite having read seven Harry Potter books, It was appalling to discover that I had no clue of what would happen at all. A knot formed in my stomach, and I wrung my hands together. I suddenly _felt _like a ten year old child, incredibly lost and nervous. The lights began to flicker, and a kind clerk emerged from further in the shop.

"My dear, are you quite all right?" he asked. "You're causing the lights to go out."

I blinked, composing myself. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to," I muttered in a small voice.

"That's quite all right," he said with a toothy grin. "How old are you, my dear?"

"Ten, sir," I said, half reminding myself. "Nearly eleven, really."

"And what is a fine young lady of nearly eleven doing scared out of her wits?"

I bit my bottom lip. "It's nothing, I just thought of something dreadful."

"You and I both can get carried away with imaginations," he smiled. "But don't let them get to you unless they're of the good sort. Now, off you go, there are a few books a girl your age might find intriguing up on the second floor."

I smiled and thanked him, feeling my sudden burst of fear subside. _On the bright side, I had actually done magic! _I wandered to the shop's upper landing, feeling more cheerful, and took out a copy of _Sonnets of a Sorcerer_. I was about to open it, when a hand shot out to stop me.

"You'll regret that," a red headed boy peered down at me, wearing a smug grin. I was shocked to have been kept from reading a book.

"All your life!" chimed another one.

_Why, these are the Weasley twins! I'd forgotten how young they-we all were._

"And why would I regret it?" I turned from one to the other. _They really are identical! Although George's eyes droop a bit more._

"Why would I regret it, she says," Fred crossed his arms.

"That book's cursed, it is," George said, almost immediately after Fred had spoken.

"You'll be talking in limericks-"

"For the rest of your life."

_And I thought recognizing them was a task! _Listening to them made my head spin. "Oh," I said, putting the book back on the shelf.

"We haven't introduced ourselves. Fred Weasley, and this is George." Fred extended his right hand, while the other twin promptly offered his left. I crossed my arms over each other to shake them both at once.

"Pleasure," I said. _Of course, I already know who you two are. _"Jane Ma-Kingsleigh. Jane Kingsleigh."

"Kingsleigh," Fred said, turning my name over in his head. "Georgie, didn't we see that name in the papers about a month ago?"

"Right you are Freddie, something about the Ministry," he waved it off. "Nevermind that, we really should be going."

"Quite right, Georgie," Fred rubbed the back of his neck. "Mum's probably having a fit."

The twins turned to me and waved. "See you around, Jane Kingsleigh!" I smiled and turned my attention back to the shelf. _They're kinder than I thought they'd be. _

I purchased a copy of _Toadstool Tales, _which I promptly hid under a copy of a rather unflattering book named _Isles of the Enchanting. _The clerk was quite shocked at my selection, especially since he claimed he had never seen the second one before in his life!

"I won't have you paying for those," he frowned. "One is banned, and I have no record of the other. Tell you what, if you keep it a secret, I'll let you keep both."

"Do you mean it?" I said in delight.

His expression softened. "Just don't get carried away."

Alice was still at work by the time I had emerged from Flourish and Blotts. I skipped over to a cafe for lunch, only to find that all the indoor seats were full. I shrugged. _The fresh air would be nice. _Although the howling wind brought about by the spring storm was hardly pleasant, a table outside would allow me a great deal of distance from other human beings as I sank myself into my new book. The waitress didn't seem to mind that I had ordered two cups of hot chocolate, and had left me be. I was nearly finished with the third story of the _Toadstool Tales_ and had gone through a good dose of laughter as well as three quarters of my hot chocolate when a rude cough broke my concentration. I looked up, clearly annoyed.

"You're going to catch a cold out here, my dear," a cold voice pierced the air. I traced its origins to a tall, stern looking woman in posh green robes. Her hood was pulled up halfway, but I could see her face very clearly. Her hair was as pale as her face. Her back was as straight as the line her lips formed. I didn't like the way she looked at me, as if she held some sort of moral superiority.

I set my book down. "Forgive me for being quite frank, madam, but I don't think it's any of your concern. Seeing as there are no longer any seats inside the cafe, I should think it more wrong for me to force my way in rather than sit outside, don't you?"

She seemed to have missed my insult, for her eyes had drifted to my book. "What is a child like you doing reading this book? You know this is banned, don't you? I wouldn't even _think _of reading anything from such a repugnant book to my own son!"

"I think it's rather funny," I said, smiling to myself. _Then the little golden pot danced with delight- hoppitty hoppitty hop! - on its tiny rosy toes! Wee Willykins had cured all the dollies of their poorly tum-tums, and the little pot was so happy it filled up with sweeties for Wee Willykins and the dollies! _I let out a few bursts of laughter. "Don't you have a sense of humour?" The meddlesome woman threw me a scowl.

"Narcissa, there you are," a pale pointed face with long blonde hair appeared next to her, a hand on his walking stick and another on Narcissa's shoulder. He raised a brow and stared at me curiously with his grey eyes. "And who is this?"

The two icy creatures stared at me expectantly. I clenched my jaw, realizing that _I _had to introduce myself. "Jane Kingsleigh," I said as clear as day.

"Oh? Kingsleigh is it? Lucius Malfoy, you've met my wife, Narcissa, and this," he stepped back to reveal a young boy, looking positively like his father. _Even down to his smug expression. _"This is Draco."

I smiled tightly. "Pleasure," I said.

"It's a rather tragic thing, your parent's death, as well as your uncle's, despite him having married a muggle. They were both well-bred men, the Kingsleigh brothers."

"You must be mistaken, Mr Malfoy, it was my _father _who married a muggle, and I have no recollection of my father having a brother."

He raised his brow even higher. "Your father never told you? Well, I suppose Samuel had to keep his whole life hidden from your muggle aunt."

"Wh-what do you mean? And what's wrong with my aunt being a muggle?"

"Eliphas Kingsleigh was a great sort of fellow. _He _was your father, not Samuel. Of course, after that train accident, you hardly remember anything about any of them, do you?" He said it as a statement rather than a question. "The Ministry thinks it could have been a memory charm."

"If dark magic was involved, it would certainly be plausible," I replied.

"Yes," he looked at me absently. "I am terribly sorry that your father is gone, although Eliphas and I did have a falling out."

"Pardon me, Mr Malfoy, but if you'd had a falling out, then perhaps you shouldn't truly be so terribly sorry that he's gone."

I saw the corner of his mouth twitch lightly. "You're a bright girl, Ms Kingsleigh, but I implore you to choose your words wisely, lest others... misinterpret what you say."

I pursed my lips, wondering why I had said such mean things. _I suppose it wouldn't be quite myself to judge so eagerly. What am I turning into? _"If I have offended you, Mr Malfoy, I assure you, it was not my intention. I am merely feeling quite ill from sitting outside in the damp weather, as Mrs Malfoy had warned me so kindly against. Please do excuse my manners."

Mr Malfoy nodded. "Now, now, there's no need to apologize, Ms Kingsleigh. I trust Draco will be seeing you at Hogwarts this September?" I smiled and nodded faintly.

"I'm looking forward to it," Draco said haughtily.

_Don't look at me like I'm your slave, _I wanted to shout. Instead, I smiled and waved as they turned to leave. Honestly! They are surely the most pompous creatures I've ever laid my eyes on! _But that does not give you the right to pass judgement so easily._ Jasper's voice rang loud and clear in the recesses of my mind._ It's not the realm that shapes you, but how you react to it._

When Alice had found me at the cafe, I had begun to run a fever. "Traveling between worlds lowers our immune system," she explained. "We'll have to go home by Floo."

I barely argued as we made our way into Obscurus Books. The lobby had a fireplace with a hanging pot filled with glittering Floo powder. I took a pinch and threw it into the fireplace. It burst into green flames and rose above me as I stepped forward. I tucked my elbows in, and spoke clearly. "Wells-next-the-sea Station!"

The green flames whirled around me, and I felt like I was being flushed down the drain. _Could I actually be flushed down a drain? _With a horrible lurch, I landed on my belly right smack in the middle of Wells-next-the-sea Station. I was quite surprised that I had been able to say it clearly, since it was a mouthful as it was. Alice appeared next to me and helped me up. We took a cab to the outskirts of our cottage, and I barely remember what happened afterwards, for I believe I had fallen asleep.

_The vortex pulled me back again, back from the realm and into my own body._

Henry was knocking persistently on my bedroom door. "Jane March, wake up! We're leaving in three hours, and you haven't packed a thing!"

"Alright already! I'm up! Honestly." I pulled myself out of bed and walked over to my bathroom. I had gotten so used to seeing my younger self in the mirror, that my weary university face jolted me awake. I brushed my teeth and combed my hair before pulling my suitcase out from under my bed.

Papa peeped his head in as I was folding up a pair of jeans. "Ready, darling?"

I smiled. "Just about," I pursed my lips. "Papa, did Great grandpa Samuel ever have a brother?"

"Yes, but he died in the Korean War. He was a representative for the United Nations. It was quite a shame, Your grandmother said he was quite the visionary," he frowned. "Has this – erm – got to do with your dream?"

I nodded. "Great grandpa Samuel had died in a train accident. I woke up in a hospital three months after. Everyone thinks I've got amnesia, or something."

"It's not your fault, you know. And even if it was, Grandpa Samuel was a hundred, and could barely get out of bed. I should think you did him a favor."

"I don't think being a part of someone's death is ever a good favor to give, Papa," I muttered as I buckled my suitcase. Papa took my case in his hands as if it weighed nothing.

"Well, at least you didn't indirectly kill your own father. Get a move on, we're running late."

Joe was already at the boarding gate when our little pack had checked in. He straightened himself at the sight of us and grinned. "I thought you'd never arrive," he moved to kiss my cheek but stopped when he saw Papa. _Thank God_, I thought. His presence alone sent waves of emotion coursing through my veins. "Hi, Mr March!"

"Joe," Papa nodded at him. Papa clearly had an unflattering opinion of Joe, although he'd never admit it to _me_. I shook my head and took my seat. There was quite some time left before we boarded, so I took out a book to read. Joe made a face.

"What?" I stared at him.

"Little Women? Isn't that a children's novel?"

"Haven't you read it?"

He shook his head. "Not unless it was adapted into a movie."

"You're kidding," I stared at him. "You don't like reading?"

"I get bored," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You read enough for both of us," he winked. I melted. Despite the unrest I felt after his little confession, it all fluttered away after that one wink. _I have it bad. _

I closed my book and turned to Joe. "Then what would you rather do while we wait?"

He smiled. "I've got my camera, let's wander."

Soon, Joe was taking candid shots of any living human soul while I was sipping a frothy milkshake beside him. It was five minutes until boarding, and we were walking back to our gate. He was so serious when he took photos that I almost regretted pulling him back towards my parents. His bewildered expression drove the regret away. I avoided his eyes, feeling a blush creeping up on me. I had managed to avoid the embarrassment of sitting next to him when Henry _insisted_ that they should have some 'boy time'. What my brother was hatching up, I could not imagine, but I trusted Henry... I also desperately wanted to read Little Women. So, I apologetically threw Joe over to my brother and spent the entire flight reading my book.

Grandma Caroline met us at the airport, her wrinkly smile as cheerful as ever. She was a full head taller than I was, and I could tell Joe was intimidated. My grandmother never left the house without every strand of hair being in place. She absolutely _never _wore pink, or any light colour, or pants for that matter. She looked like a vampire, with her pale skin and stern expression. I suppose she picked up the habit when she was a Dreamer. Of course, although _we _knew she was harmless, but Joe was scared out of his wits.

"Hi, Grandma Caroline!" I said as she pulled me into a bone crushing hug.

"My Jane," she whispered. "How's being a Dreamer, love?"

"It's as pleasant as it can get," I smiled.

She had decided to interrogate Joe as we headed off to the house. We piled into Grandma's old mini van and went on our way. Henry had pulled me to the back, saying he had a startling discovery.

"Jane, I don't like Joe." Henry had always been straightforward, but his sudden revelation caught me off guard.

"Why not?" I asked.

Henry looked me straight in the eye. "Seriously, Jane? Besides the way he makes you feel, what else do you see in the guy?"

I paused, thinking it over. "He's a photographer. And he's got good taste in food. And he's charming."

"That last one doesn't count. It falls under _the way he makes you feel._"

"Well, I've got no qualms!"

"Not even the fact that he gets bored when reading? Or how all he seems to do is take photos all day?" I shrugged. "Just think about it, Jane."

And I had been thinking about it. In fact, I couldn't _stop _thinking about it. I observed the way he couldn't see past my Grandma's facade to see that she was gentle and kind, despite interrogating him, not at all stern. When we had arrived at Grandma's house in the suburbs, Joe had told me that Grandma Caroline _scared _him. I observed the way he ignored everyone at the wake, keeping to himself. I observed how he avoided my parents' attempts at conversation at dinner. _Why, he's just uncomfortable! And here you are judging him like he's a death eater, or a Nazi. Although they are almost the same thing. _

What confused me most was the way he looked at me. I couldn't read his expression. He seemed sincere. He seemed into me. But there was something off. _Something's missing. _I brushed it off. Henry was getting to me. I went to bed secretly hoping that things would look different in the morning.

I found myself back in 1991, with Alice at my side. She made me drink a vile tasting potion for my fever before I lay my head down again.

_The vortex came too soon. "No, not yet!" I cried out, but the bloody curse didn't seem to take my desires into account. I had apparently used that card up when I asked to stay longer the last time._

Joe was ungently shoving me awake. "Hey," he said kindly. "Care for a walk?"

I groaned and glanced at the clock. "It's five in the morning. Why would I want to get out of bed at five in the morning?"

He grinned, causing me to melt. "England's got a certain charm about it. I want to enjoy it with just _you _this morning. Please?"

I felt myself blush. The thoughts I had from the night before faded to the back of my mind. "Alright, let me get dressed."

We took a walk around the neighborhood and sat on the swings in the park. Joe did most of the talking, and I learned that he loved movies, hated planning in advance, and scorned the thought of God.

"Why should I believe in a Higher Being who doesn't even show His damn face?" he exclaimed.

I learned that although he felt suffocated by his parents, Joe subconsciously yearned for their approval. He talked about them endlessly. "Dad already had his company going at the age of fifteen..." or "...Mom always knew she would marry Dad. It's disgusting, but I kinda want that too..." or "...Dad was pretty disappointed when I didn't get into Columbia..."

The more he talked, the more the '_missing' _feeling nagged at me. There was just something missing in Joe, something I couldn't place. _You were just Dreaming for too long, that's all, _I convinced myself as Joe took my hand. He continued telling me about himself as we walked back to Grandma's place. I enjoyed hearing his voice change tone, and seeing his face light up as he spoke. When we finally got to the house, he released my hand and my heart fell. We sat apart at Great grandpa Samuel's funeral. I kept sneaking glances in his direction.

_He's all you've wanted, _I told myself, but the voice just wouldn't stop ringing. _There's something off_, it chimed. _There's something off._


	7. 7: The Realm's Tricks

A/N: Again, I take no credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Tim Burton, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker.

Here is chapter seven! It took a while, and it's a bit short, but trust me, it's important.

...

Chapter 7

...

The Realm's Tricks

...

The sun had set as we huddled next to Great grandpa Samuel's fresh grave. I stood next to Grandma Caroline, her head on my shoulder.

"He began to dream again," Grandma whispered as his coffin sunk into the earth. "He was in hysterics for the past few months."

I began shifting uncomfortably beside her. "Grandma Caroline, I–"

"I know, Jane, I know," she cut me off. "It's not your fault."

"But, Grandma, he's _gone_!"

"As is my husband, as are our ancestors. Yes, we mourn, and no, we rarely do get over it, but it happens. Death does not always need a reason, nor should we always cast blame. Life is much more complex than a cause and an effect."

"Grandma..."

She gave me a sad smile. "There is much we need to talk about, Jane, preferably before you go back to your dream." I gave a faint nod as the undertaker was piling soil onto Great grandpa Samuel's grave. "Now, onto Joe," she chirped.

I felt my heart flutter absently. "He says he's scared of you," I said.

"As he ought to be! He's dreadful with conversation, dear, but then again, so was your Great grandpa Samuel – until the Curse was lifted off him, of course."

I barely had time to ask what she meant, for in that moment, Papa whisked her away to talk of other things.

Grandma Caroline did not speak to me about the Curse until after dinner. Joe was up for a late night stroll when Grandma Caroline called me over. "Jane, won't you come chat in my room?" I caught Joe's disappointed grimace before Grandma pulled me away. She shut the door behind us and ushered me to the couch in front of her fireplace. She folded her hands on her lap and stared at me intently.

"Grandma Caroline, you're being rather cryptic," I said, shifting in my seat.

"Darling, your father is too shell shocked by the weight of the Curse being lifted off his shoulders to talk to you about it, much less advise you on its evils. You see, my father, Samuel – your Great grandpa – couldn't seem to cope with being a Dreamer. At first, well, he stumbled through it. He tried to get by, day by day. Then one day, he hatched a plan to outsmart the Curse. He thought he was clever, you see, for he was a well read sort of fellow," she paused. Her hands were shaking. "But the realm – the dreams, they began to change him. He went from this timid good-natured young lad to this arrogant young man. Of course, soon later, he went on and on about world domination. I don't know how my mother ever agreed to marry him, but I'm glad she did, definitely.

"He changed so much, in fact, that my mother hardly recognized him a few years after they got married. He got sucked into his dreams because he wasn't keeping watch of himself. The realm makes us do terrible things, Jane. It leads us to our weaknesses to show us how vile and wretched we truly are. Whether we turn into the vile and wretched versions of ourselves is based on how we react to the dreams.

"My father was always tempted with power, and the realm handed him the opportunity on a silver platter. He became some sort of a ruler, a monarch of some sort. It didn't stop there. The realm then tempted him with fear – fear of losing his position. He fell into the Curse's trap, and he became vicious. He turned mean, he did.

"I believe he went on a killing spree in his dreams, for even in his waking moments, he would talk about the realm, and about how he had squashed another rebellion, and about turning _our _world into one like _his_. When the Curse was transferred, Father became much more pleasant, naturally, but it took a while."

"Well, Grandma Caroline, what do you _mean _by it?"

"My dear Jane," she stared into me. "The curse has one too many tricks up its sleeve, and _you _are the target. If you're not careful, you'll become someone you're not. Have you experienced these tricks just yet?"

"Yes, actually," I frowned. "I've been having strange moods while dreaming – it's as if I were picking a fight."

Grandma Caroline gave a curt nod. "Precisely that, then. You'd better watch your moods, Jane, lest you find that you've lost yourself! Mind you, if you lose yourself, you shan't easily find your way back. In fact, there's a possibility you won't find your way back at all!"

Grandma's words sang so loudly in my head that I nearly missed what she had said next. "Sorry, what was that?"

She smiled. "I said there are other Dreamers out there, and not all of them are trapped like us. Some of them, like our ancestor Charles, are trying to meddle with time."

"What has that got to do with us then?"

"If, by any chance, one finds its way into _your _realm, they may be after more than just warping time."

"Then what would they want?"

Grandma sighed. "Don't be daft, Jane, what do you think they'd want? Our Curse doesn't seem so bad to anyone who _chooses _to be in the realm, now does it?"

"That's what Great grandpa Samuel was trying to do, wasn't it? He wanted to use the Curse for his own gain!"

"And he would have done it if the Curse hadn't been passed on. Naturally, I assume he would have had a couple of people in on it, for he had a lot of nasty friends over all the time, but after he was rid of the curse, well, they all just stopped coming."

"But will Great grandpa Samuel actually seek me out? I mean, he could, couldn't he?"

Grandma Caroline had suddenly become interested in the dying fire. "Jane, you must know that my father dreamt of a different realm when he passed away. Some realm with magic in it. For such a reason as this, I was more afraid he would become his old self than I was of him passing."

"If he's past away in the realm, then he can't come back to it, Grandma, can he?"

"Darling, I do hope so, I truly do," she sighed. "Evil runs in our family, Jane, first Charles, then my father–"

"What if it's me? What if _I'm _next to turn foul?" I frowned. "The process has certainly started, Grandma, the tricks, they're starting to get to me."

"Good runs in our family too, dear Jane," she put her hand over mine. "We always have a choice–always."

Sleep greeted me with a foreboding feeling, one that was cold and unpleasant – much colder than meeting the Malfoys. I swore to keep Grandma Caroline's words in mind as I went about my day. _If you lose yourself, you shan't easily find your way back._

I awoke to the sun's rays glimmering through my window. Its light danced against my bed sheet, sending warm waves across my skin. I no longer felt ill. In fact, I felt invigorated by the potion. _Have I mentioned I love magic? _I was ten again, and my open window had brought in the summer breeze. I sighed, feeling my mood turn sour. I padded down to the breakfast table where Alice was having breakfast. She noticed me at once, for the plates began to clatter when I entered the room. The fruits began to rise up like orbs, circling the breakfast table. Alice just glanced at them, unphased. _I suppose Wonderland does that to you._

"Jane, what's wrong? Are you upset?"

I frowned. "I'm not sure why I am really, there's no reason for me to be."

She sighed. "Yes, well, I suppose it's normal. When I was in Underland, I was always crying."

"I'm sorry, Alice, I don't mean to cause all this," I gestured to the hovering orange.

Alice shook her head. "The realm plays its tricks, Jane, but you've got to fight it as hard as you can. Perhaps an outlet?"

"How can an outlet help?"

"Well, it seems to be dealing with you as it dealt with me – raw emotions. Time helps you control it, but while you can't, you need an outlet."

"Well, I haven't got any of those," I grumbled and took a seat. "At this rate, the cottage will be blown to smithereens."

"Try not to do so before I get back," Alice winked. "_I've_ got an idea."

I managed to keep the mishaps to a minimum by the time Alice had returned home. I managed to make a bowl of ice cream boil, agitate a gnome in the garden–I don't think we'll have any of _those _anymore–and freeze the little birdbath fountain we had in the back garden. After Alice had gotten everything in order with a wave of her wand, she pulled two large packages out from her tiny messenger bag.

"Undetectable extension charm," she chirped, "right, well, here it is! I wasn't sure if you wanted something from the Wizarding world or the Muggle one, so I got one of both. Here's a Cleansweep Six racing broomstick– you fly it, of course _you _know that – and here's a violin – well, you would know what a violin is."

"Well, thanks, Alice, but I don't know how to fly with a broom, nor do I know how to play the violin."

Alice shrugged. "There's no harm in learning, is there?"

We had dinner and I got to it, for I barely had anything else to do.

"Oh, and Jane?" Alice called out as I was headed to the garden.

"Yes?"

"Try not to be seen," Alice smiled. "And have fun!"

I smiled back. Alice probably understood me better than anyone else did. I grabbed the broom and brought it out to the garden. _How did they do it back in the first book? _

I lay the broom on the grass and stood next to it. "Up!" I said clearly, and it flew into my hand. _At least I'm sure I won't embarrass myself when I get to Hogwarts. _I mounted the broom and pushed off the ground, my knees bent. I gasped as I was lifted into the air. The broom propelled me upward, and the wind rustled my hair. I rose higher and higher. The clear sky drove all my cares away. I could breathe again.

I went to bed without anymore mood swings.

_As the vortex pulled me back into my body, I wondered whether I would emerge the same person I'd been when I had gone to sleep._

Joe was waiting outside my door as I went down for breakfast. "Good, you're up!"

I smiled. "I was just about to look for you, actually. We should really work on that project. We've got two days left in Glasgow."

"Right," he ran his hand through his hair. It seemed less red than it had been the day we met. "I completely forgot about that," he said.

"How could you?" I smirked.

"I _do _remember something _you _seem to have forgotten," he winked. I felt myself blush. _He has to stop doing that._

I raised my eyebrow. "What's that?"

He shook his head. "Not until Tuesday."

I contorted my face in confusion. "What _are _you talking about?"

He shook his head. "Not until Tuesday," he repeated.

"Alright then!" I said, fighting the urge to ask him again. "Anyway, my second cousin, Diana? She's agreed to be our model, and since we've got Henry, then all we need are the scenes and –"

"Jane," he cut me off. "Relax, there's no rush." I wanted to disagree, but he clamped his hand down on my mouth. "Don't forget, you agreed to that second date," he whispered in my ear before dropping his hand. I blushed.

"You cheat," I muttered.

He winked. Again. "Tonight, then."

I felt my heart drum loudly, but instead of a warm sensation engulfing me, my heart drummed to the tune of _something's off._


	8. 8: The Visitor

A/N: This is the 8th chapter, isn't it?! Thanks for sticking with me, doves! I really do appreciate it.

Once again, I do not take credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Tim Burton, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker. Oh, and I've made a Criminal Minds reference here – the big reveal on what that quote _was _at the end of the chapter.

...

Chapter 8

...

The Visitor

...

Joe's antics had gotten us stranded in the middle of nowhere. As much as I found his spontaneity endearing, he has clearly gone too far tonight. We had taken a detour after a picnic in Maryhill Park, and Joe had literally run off into Templehill Wood with his camera, leaving me to follow after him. I wrapped my winter coat tighter around me and looked about. My date was nowhere to be seen.

"This is not funny, Joe!" I called out. _As if he can hear me._ I rolled my eyes and trudged through the snow. "Honestly, how do you expect me to find you in these woods?"

"Try," his voice rung faintly from the trees.

There was something eerie in the woods, and I desperately wanted to head back home. "Joe, come _on, _it's late. Let's go back to the car."

The trees shivered unnaturally behind me, and I turned around, hoping to see Joe's devious face. Instead, an unfamiliar boot emerged from the foliage. It was followed by a two meter tall scrawny young man with short brown hair. He shoved his hands in his pockets. His square jaw was set, his lips were pursed, and his eyebrows raised, as if daring me to explain why I was there. My imagination went wild, and I did the most sensible thing I could think of. I ran as fast as my legs could take me.

"Wait! Hold on a moment!" the stranger called out. I ran even faster, snapping branches under my feet in the process. I emerged from the woods and bolted straight for the car. Joe was leaning against it, his camera still snapping photos. His well built frame quaked from his laughter.

"Not funny," I gasped. "There's someone there – in the woods. Let's go, _now!_"

Joe shrugged. "I could take anyone on," he winked. It did not calm my nerves this time around.

"You might be well built, but he's half a head taller than you are!" I snapped as I jumped into the driver's seat.

"Half a head? I'm 5"9, you know," Joe said doubtfully as he slithered into the passanger's seat.

I looked at him quizzically. "You Americans and your non-metric system."

He shrugged. "If he's six feet, it doesn't matter – unless he's burly. I'd be worried if he was burly."

I revved the engine and pulled us off the trail. "He wasn't," I said absently as we made our way to the cement paved road. "He was skinny."

Grandma Caroline was waiting out on the porch when we got back. She smiled sweetly as we approached. "It's a little late to be out, even for _your _generation, don't you think so?"

"I couldn't agree _more, _Grandma," I said as Joe nudged me with his elbow.

"Now, off to bed, then! Oh, not you, dear Jane, we _must _have another chat. Shall we?" Grandma Caroline pulled me into her room and shut the door, leaving Joe to fumble into the house on his own. She sat me down on the couch and tended the fire. It's a wonder Grandma Caroline was so healthy. Despite her wrinkled hands and her white hair, Grandma didn't seem all that old. "Jane, what happened tonight?"

"Joe's very spontaneous," I sighed. Grandma Caroline's lower lip tightened, asking for more information. "We ended up in Templehill Wood, and he just ran off."

"That's rather unbecoming of a gentleman," Grandma shrugged and took a seat next to me. "But I assume there's more?"

"Yes, there was a man," I watched Grandma's face crinkle in worry. I recounted the encounter, and the furrows on Grandma's face dug itself deeper into her skin.

"I'm afraid my fears have confirmed themselves to be true. It's decided, then. You'll be staying here for the holidays. There is much you must know, and your father should be allowed to enjoy his divorce from the Curse."

"But who _was _that man? I've certainly never met him before."

"Nor have I. He could be one of two things. He could have been a mere passerby, or he could have been a Dreamer. If he was the later, oh, do I pray he's not an evil sort. If he were like my father Samuel, the danger he brings is unquantifiable."

Grandma promptly sent me to bed without another word. I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, returning to the memory of tonight's encounter, trying to make out details I had missed. _He had dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept for days. _I rubbed my eyes. _His hair was tousled, like he had just gotten out of bed. His coat wasn't nearly thick enough for the winter._ I tried to flit back into my dreams, but I couldn't. _He must have been a Dreamer. _I frowned. _But how would he have known I was there? _The question burned itself behind my eyelids. Nevermind that Joe had left me alone in the middle of the wood. Nevermind that there were more logical explanations. Nevermind logic! The Curse was beyond that. How had my life gotten so out of order? I bet Henry could've handled it better. _Why _hadn't it been Henry? I buried my face in my pillow, trying to keep my emotions under control.

"Please, God," I whispered, tears leaking from my eyes. "If You're there, please, please, make it better."

I awoke with tears staining my cheeks. I wiped them off, and looked out the window. The sky was dark with storm clouds, but there was not a hint of snow. Thankfully, I was away from the madness of my own realm. It was all too confusing. The steady pitter patter of rain drummed against the window. Alice's voice floated from across the hall. "Jane? Are you up?"

"Yes, I am," I croaked back. I wrapped the sheets tighter around me. I heard Alice's shoes click against the floor as she made her way to my room. She pried the door open and sat next to me. I bit my lip, holding back tears. "I'm fine, Alice, really, I am."

"It's best to let it all out, Jane," Alice said, putting her arm around me.

I leaned my head against her shoulder. "Why does it have to be so complicated?"

"Because if it weren't, it wouldn't be worth fighting for," she said, stroking my hair. "The question _now _is whether or not you've summoned the courage to fight on."

"I'm not _like _you, Alice, you're always brave, and you're never afraid of anything. I haven't got a single strand of courage in my bones!"

"Courage is not the _absence _of fear, Jane. Courage is when you don't allow your fears to keep you from doing the right thing."

"How do we know what's right?"

"That depends. Where does your treasure lie?"

"Well, I wish I could quit, yield, surrender, capitulate. I wish I could just take a peaceful nap."

Alice chuckled. "I don't think you have that choice, Jane. If it makes you feel any better, I cried for five nights straight because of the Curse." Alice held me for a while longer before she gave a small gasp. "I do believe we've left your broomstick outside. The rain has surely ruined it."

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter. It was only an outlet. I think I'm fine now."

She gave my shoulder an encouraging squeeze before heading off to work. I watched her walk out the gate and disappear with a faint pop. _She must have apparated. _

Perhaps it was the rain, or Alice's words that calmed me down. If there _was _a Dreamer out to get me even in this realm, he'd have to find me first. I conjured up a battle plan. I assumed my magical abilities would kick in, and I'd probably be able to blast the bastard into oblivion. _I wonder if Dreamers become wizards in this realm if they weren't meant to be here in the first place. _Alice was the least of my worries, for she was brimming with muchness that no Dreamer would dare double cross her. _Besides, _I thought. _What's the worst that could happen if Alice dies? She's already stuck in the in between world._

I began to feel one of my moods overtaking me, so I grabbed the violin Alice had brought back and tuned it. _No harm in learning. _An old book was wedged in the violin case. I picked it up and read the title. "Suzuki," I muttered. I flipped open the page and began teaching myself. Before I knew it, my mood had lifted as I got the hang of playing _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star._ I glanced up from my bed to see the sun setting again. _Oh, I haven't eaten all day!_

I heard the front door shut, and I raced down to greet Alice. "Guess what I've done today?"

"Well," Alice glanced around, gracefully taking off her coat. "You certainly didn't blow the place up."

"That's what I _haven't _done, although it is related to that."

I followed Alice to the sitting room, my violin behind my back. She sat down on the couch and looked at me expectantly. "Well, what is it?"

I pulled the violin from my back and played a tune. "I'm not too good yet, but it's helped."

Alice clapped her hands. "That's marvelous, Jane! I think this was a better idea than the broom," she glanced out at the stormy sky. She gestured towards the kitchen. "Shall we make dinner?" I nodded and followed her to the kitchen.

Alice's idea of making dinner tonight was making Swedish meatballs. "We've got this in my realm too," I said. "It's in this place called Ikea."

"Does it taste the same?"

I shook my head, stabbing a meatball with my fork. "No, it's a tad too, erm, _preserved_ in my realm. Here it's fresh."

"What about that gem you found? Has he lived up to your expectations?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Henry – that's my brother – doesn't think highly of him. And I'm beginning to see why. He _hates _reading, and he can never sit still, and he's scared of Grandma Caroline. But, I don't know, I'm still terribly fond of him."

"Not everything is as it seems, Jane, and not everyone is as they appear to be."

"But what if he _is _as dull as Henry thinks he is? Am I allowed to be fond of him despite that fact?"

"My dear Jane, if you are fond of him for fondness' sake, it shall pass as quickly as a bee's lifespan. If it's something pure and true, then even when you feel nothing for him, all the world will be right in place."

"Well, there are bigger things to worry about," I frowned. "Grandma Caroline told me that Uncle Jasper's son, Samuel is pure evil. Well, she didn't say that exactly, but she might as well have."

"Oh? Jasper has a lot on his plate, then," Alice pursed her lips.

"Grandma thinks that he's hatched a plan with other Dreamers – the bad kind."

"We'd better take precautions, then, lest they find us _here_ of all places. How about we have a little chat with Albus Dumbledore tomorrow?"

"Where do we find him?"

"We don't _find _him, Jane. _He _finds us."

After dinner, Alice sent me to bed. From my window, I saw an owl fly past our gates into the horizon. _Alice must have sent a letter to Dumbledore. _Although there were certainly more pressing things to turn my mind to, I went to bed thinking of Joe and wondering if he was worth all the trouble. The vortex did not come. I suppose my own realm was as tired of me as I was of it. I never thought I would prefer the Dream realm to my own, but I was beginning to see its appeal. It may be the weather, for Spring and Autumn were my favorite times of the year, or it may just be that I need time to think things through.

Alice's dreamy voice pulled me from my sleep. "Jane, Dumbledore will be here any minute, I do think you should get dressed." My eyes flashed open, and I bolted to the bathroom, causing Alice to laugh. "We have waffles downstairs," she said before leaving my room.

I took a hot bath and stared at myself in the mirror. "Remember, you're Jane Kingsleigh. Jane Kingsleigh." I changed into a clean set of clothes and ran down, catching the scent of waffles. My feet were glued to the foot of the stairs when I heard a gentle chime. Alice appeared out of the dining room.

"Do you like it? I put a bell on the gate," she said before opening the front door.

"It sounds like a music box," I said, stepping out after her, and we walked through the garden.

Dumbledore was standing by the gate, his clear blue eyes peering through his half mooned spectacles. He seemed to be admiring the vines that weaved in and out of the black gate. "Good morning, Dumbledore," Alice said, tapping her wand twice on the gate. "Please, do come in."

"Alice," he acknowledged, stepping through the gate. He turned to me, and I felt like he was proding through my mind, but it didn't feel uncomfortable in the least. "We haven't been properly introduced, have we, Jane? Albus Dumbledore." He extended his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you," I said as I shook his hand.

"I trust you've taken the necessary precautions, Alice?" Dumbledore turned to my cousin who nodded.

"It is as I've written," she said. "Shall we go inside? Jane hasn't had breakfast, you see."

"Ah, yes, lead the way," Dumbledore smiled.

No sooner were we seated on the breakfast table did Alice speak. "You've been aware, Dumbledore, of what Jane and I _are_."

"Yes," he said calmly before turning to me. "Alice had explained all of it when I had become suspicious upon her arrival in England, you see. She's a rather talented witch, although your eyes give your age away, my dear Alice."

Alice smiled. "Well, Dumbledore, you're the only one keen enough to have found us out. And I'm not nearly as old as you are."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Yes, I can hardly disagree with you there, my dear. But what exactly have you called me here to discuss?"

"Jane's discovered another bad egg in the family," Alice frowned. "My grandson, Samuel."

Dumbledore matched Alice's frown with his own. "The same Samuel on the train four months back?"

"The same," Alice sighed. "And was his body ever found?"

"They say it's been blown to pieces," Dumbledore paused. "Although I have my doubts."

"So he's still out there?" I blurted.

Dumbledore chose his words carefully. "It is not impossible, just as the Dark Lord is indeed still lurking about."

"Sir, was – is Samuel my father? Here in this realm?"

Dumbledore's eyes glinted. "Legally, you were under his care."

"However? There's always a but, isn't there?"

"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore's tone was filled with amusement. "However, he was not your father, and Beth was not your mother. Your father Eliphas died in the First Wizarding War. There was a prophecy – a prophecy that involved Voldemort. Eliphas was killed keeping the information hidden. To this day, not a soul knows what had been prophesied."

"Except you," I said carefully, examining Dumbledore's reaction.

"All things reveal themselves in their own time, my dear," he replied. "But now, to the matter at hand. Alice, quickly, I do believe you've learned how to make an area unplottable?"

"I have," Alice said, standing. She turned to me. "If our cottage is unplottable, not even Samuel could find us. It's brilliant, really, although it does take a lot of energy to cast the proper enchantment."

"Samuel isn't the only one we should look out for," Dumbledore mumbled. "I wouldn't be surprised if there are others who share his vision."

"Yes, I am quite worried," Alice furrowed her brow.

"Well, Jane will be in Hogwarts by September, and she'll be safe here with you, Alice," Dumbledore smiled. They were talking as though I had left the room.

"I suppose I'm worried about her own realm," Alice sighed. "At least we have Caroline on the other side. She's one of my better descendants."

"Shall we get to it, then?" Dumbledore moved to the door.

Alice nodded. "Jane, we'll be outside, putting up the barrier if you need us."

A/N: The big reveal! Have you guessed it?

_"Well, I wish I could quit, yield, surrender, capitulate. I wish I could just take a peaceful nap." – _Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds said "I quit, yield, surrender, capitulate. I'm going to take a nap."


	9. 9: The Burrow's Inhabitants

A/N: Doesn't the title excite you? You're gonna get a load of red headed madness in this chapter!

Again, I do not take credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Tim Burton, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker.

...

Chapter 9

...

The Burrow's Inhabitants

...

Apparently, making the perimeter unplottable was more work than I anticipated. Alice and Dumbledore had been at it for days, only ceasing for meals and sleep. They were currently circling the hedges slowly, their wands extended and their mouths moving soundlessly, muttering spells. _No wonder muggles think witchcraft is of the devil. It does look rather cryptic with all the chanting and wand waving. _

I popped a grape in my mouth. Already, the summer heat was seeping into the house. I glanced at the calendar. _It's only the tenth of June. I had met the Weasley twins and the Malfoys on the second. _Keeping track of two separate timetables was rather confusing. I supposed I'd be writing _2012 _on parchment instead of _1991. _I decided to do something more productive with my time, and took out my violin. I worked on _Song of the Wind_ for the entire afternoon before I heard the front door shut. I could hear them whispering. I crept out of my room and hid at the top of the stairs, my curiosity ebbed. They were in the sitting room, exhaustion written across their faces.

"It's taking longer than I had hoped, Dumbledore. At this rate, Samuel shall have our heads by nightfall!" Alice whispered. "How much longer do we need?"

"A fortnight, at least," Dumbledore replied. "Rest, Alice. If we are to do this properly, you need to rest."

"But Jane is not _safe _here, not until the compound is secure. He'll come looking, Dumbledore, both you and I know he will." Alice's voice was laced with worry.

"Then we have no better option," Dumbledore cast a glance to the stairwell. "Jane, would you come down, please?"

I winced, ready for a lecture on eavesdropping. I came down and stood before them.

"Jane," Dumbledore peered down at me. "Until the cottage is unplottable, we must send you away." I frowned.

Alice stood and pulled me into a hug. "I wish you didn't have to leave, Jane, but you must."

"But I want to stay here, Alice, with you."

She knelt down so her clear blue eyes were looking straight into my deep ones. "Muchness is doing what we must, despite not wanting to. You mustn't lose your muchness, Jane."

"Very well," Dumbledore said grimly. "We shall leave you at the Burrow tonight."

"Dumbledore," Alice said thoughtfully. "We really should come up with a name for this place, don't you think?"

"No better time," he said, stroking his beard. "And what do you propose we name it?"

"I don't know," Alice muttered as she put on her coat. "Perhaps something that Jane and I have in common?"

"I don't quite like the sound of _The Cursed Cottage,_" I said.

"Neither do I," Alice bit her lip. "Well, the Dreamers have all got the same eyes, except for Father, he's got brown ones. In fact, so does Samuel. What an odd similarity."

"Shall we call it the Sapphire Cottage?" Dumbledore asked.

Alice shook her head. "Too obvious, I think. Samuel will find it before you could say quidditch. What about Chrysocolla Cottage?"

"Lovely," Dumbledore smiled. "Chrysocolla Cottage."

"Besides that, I suppose I should tell you, Jane, we'll be casting a Fidelius Charm over Chrysocolla Cottage," Alice smiled. "I'll be its Secret Keeper."

"Jane, we'll be leaving in a little while. Go on and get your things," Dumbledore commanded. I did as I was told, stuffing a few sets of clothes into a plain red duffel bag and placing my violin back in its case. I grabbed a few books from the wardrobe – I'd found an odd number of them kept appearing there, you see – and place them on top of my clothes.

When I had gathered my things and gone down to the sitting room, Dumbledore and Alice had ceased their whispering. Whispering was never a good sign.

"Shall we go?" Dumbledore smiled. "I've sent an owl ahead of us, so they should be ready to receive Jane once we arrive." Alice took my hand, and we filed out of Chrysocolla Cottage – it's got a lovely ring to it, hasn't it – and disapparated. Apparating felt like being squeezed down a tube of toothpaste. It was uncomfortable and felt rather tight. Floo Powder, although a slower form of travel than apparition, seemed like a doozy comparatively.

In a moment, we stood in a cornfield, facing a crooked house with five chimneys emerging from its roof. It seemed as though rooms and floors were carelessly piled on top of each other, held up by some invisible force. _Magic, _I reminded myself.

"Here we are, then," Dumbledore said. "Jane, we must be heading back. I trust you know your way?"

I nodded and gave Alice's hand one last squeeze.

"Be back before you know it," Alice whispered before releasing my hand.

I stepped away, and they disapparated with a pop. I gathered up my courage and headed for the Burrow. Although I could remember my own realm quite clearly, I felt the memory of all the Harry Potter books slip away, as if this realm were manipulating my own mind. I knew it was not of my own accord, for I had read the books repeatedly, and had nearly memorized my favorite passages. _What is this Curse playing at? Why, soon I'd be forgetting my own realm! I'd be forgetting that my real name is Jane March. _As I hopped over puddles and circled the cornfield's hidden ponds, I could feel my memory of the realm fade so that I no longer had the foresight of a reader looking back. _There were seven books, _I reminded myself. _But if my presence had altered their course, why, it would only be natural for me to forget their contents! _I put it out of my mind and decided to ask Grandma Caroline once I woke up in my own realm. I knew I was close to the house when I almost knocked into a small sign with the words "The Burrow."

A plump ginger woman was pacing the Burrow's entrance, holding a letter that I could only assume was from Dumbledore. _I ought to know who she is, but it seems to have slipped my mind. _I opened the gate's latch and let myself into the small yard.

"Here she comes!" the plump lady fussed and turned to her many children. "All of you, behave yourselves – FRED, GEORGE STOP THAT THIS INSTANCE!"

I bit my lip, suppressing a laugh. I reached the front door and found myself surrounded by freckle faced gingers. Fred and George were there, and the plump woman had her hand on a young girl. A taller ginger with unruly hair and horn rimmed glasses stood quietly to the side next to a lanky little boy with a long nose. "Erm, hi, I'm Jane."

"We know," Fred and George said, simultaneously.

"We've met," Fred winked.

"And we've got a great memory," George chimed in.

"Not to mention Dumbledore told us in his letter," Fred said after.

"Jane, dear," the kind lady gave me a smile. "Molly Weasley. You've met the twins, here's Percy, the one in glasses, and that's Ron, and this is Ginny."

"Hello," I smiled.

"Well, come on, let's get inside. Supper's nearly ready."

"Mum's the greatest cook," Ron said, puffing his chest out.

"And Ron's the greatest eater," Ginny joined in. "He never stops eating. It's really a wonder he's not as fat as a pig! We've got two more older brothers who've moved out, but Ron can eat more than they can."

"Shut up, Ginny," Ron said through his teeth. His face turned as red as his hair. We passed into the cluttered kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was preparing the next meal, and then into the homey living room where a queer clock stood. The numbers were gone. In their place were words, such as _home, traveling, lost, _and _mortal peril._ There were nine hands instead of two, one for each of the Weasleys. _What an odd clock, _I thought to myself as Ginny and Ron were having a row.

"Don't quarrel," Percy scolded. "Mother won't be pleased."

"Percy's always like that," Ron frowned. "Taking the fun out of everything."

"I do not," Percy said, pushing his glasses up. "_You're _just unbelievably immature."

"Well, what do you call Fred and George, then?" Ron flailed. Percy shot the twins an annoyed face before heading off to his room. "Git," Ron muttered.

"So, Jane," Ginny turned to me. "Why exactly did Dumbledore send you here? His letter didn't really say."

"It's quite complicated," I replied, averting my eyes. "Our home, Chrysocolla Cottage that is, isn't exactly safe at the moment."

"And why is that?" Ginny pressed. I was about to answer when Ron let out a howl. Fred and George had apparently conjured up a spider on his shoulder.

"Get it off!" Ron wailed.

"FRED, GEORGE! HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU, YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC!" Mrs Weasley bellowed from the kitchen.

"Is it always like this?" I asked.

Ginny nodded. "Most days, Mum has to remind them that I'm a girl."

"Does it keep them at bay?"

Ginny shrugged. "Sometimes. Come on, you can put your things in my room." We climbed a short flight of stairs to a door on the first floor. Ginny pulled me unceremoniously in after her, and I stared at the strange posters on her wall.

"Who's that?" I pointed to a poster of a tall, dark-skinned witch mounted on a broom. She had a club in her hand and was waving at us.

"Gwenog Jones, only the most brilliant Captain of the Holyhead Harpies,the Quidditch team." Ginny stared at me as if I had grown another head. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Under a rock?" I shrugged. "My memory's been tampered with."

"Oh! That was you, then? On the muggle train four months ago!" Ginny plopped down on her bed.

I nodded. "I couldn't remember much since."

"Well, you've got loads to catch up on," Ginny bounced excitedly. "See that poster? They're a band called the Weird Sisters."

"But they're all men," I stated.

"Obviously," Ginny said, as if _Weird Sisters_ was the most natural name in the world. "The one with the guitar, he's Heathcote Barbary..." Ginny went on about all the _cool _things of the Wizarding World until it was time for supper.

Ron was quite right when he said that Mrs Weasley was a great cook. In fact, I ate more than I usually would for dinner – partly because it was so delicious, and partly because Mrs Weasley would not stop piling food onto my plate.

"Where's Dad?" Ron asked. The rest of the conversations fizzled out slightly.

"At the Ministry," Mrs Weasley said. "He's got a lot on his hands, as you know."

The table fell silent at this statement. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, their faces contorted in some form of concern. _I suppose they're all worried. _

A sudden banging of pipes broke the silence, and I had to cup my ears to keep the sound from shattering my eardrums.

"That would be the family ghoul," Mrs Weasley screamed. "Fred, could you tell it off?"

"I'm not Fred," Fred said in jest.

"I am!" George smirked. "Honestly, Mum!"

"Oh, sorry, George," she smiled sheepishly.

Fred stood to calm the ghoul. "Only joking, I am Fred."

After supper, Ginny and I lay in our beds talking.

"It's kind of nice, you know," Ginny smiled. "Having another girl around."

"You should come over when Chrysocolla Cottage has been – erm, made safe. We could go to the shore."

"I'd like that," she said. It was getting darker outside when we heard the front door shut.

"Say, does your father have a dangerous job?" I asked. "You all seemed rather worried at dinner."

"His job doesn't exactly pay well," Ginny replied. "But he's got long hours at the Ministry."

"Oh," I said. "Well, is he happy?"

"Yes, I think so. He's in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department. Muggles fascinate him," Ginny whispered.

"Well, that's what counts. I'd rather have a happy house without a single penny than a wealthy house without a single drop of laughter."

"I guess so," Ginny replied.

_The vortex took me away from the Burrow and back to Grandma's home. Suddenly, my memory had come back, and I could recite what had happened in Harry Potter from start to finish. Why I had ever forgotten it in the first place was beyond me. _

Grandma Caroline shook me awake. "Grandma, is it normal to forget the sequence of events in the other realm?"

"Of course," Grandma said, pulling me up. "It's part of the Curse. How can the realm terrify you if you know what's coming?"

"But it's still the same? The plot, I mean."

"It should be, yes. After all, how can we change it when we are barely aware of what comes next? Jane, I didn't just wake you up for nothing."

I glanced up at her. "What do you mean?"

"Joe has gone."

My eyes snapped open. "He's gone? What do you mean?"

"He got up and left," Grandma said, her lips forming a straight line. She handed me a letter. "This was on his bed."

I unfolded the letter and read it aloud. "Jane, I'll explain when you get back. My father wants me home on the next flight. Something's happened. All the best, Joe. P.S. Happy Birthday."

"And you don't think it rather odd?" Grandma Caroline frowned. "Leaving in the middle of the night?"

"Of course I think it's odd, Grandma, but I don't think he means anything bad by it, do you?"

"I can't say for certain, but let's hope you're right."

I buried my head back into my pillow as Grandma Caroline left the room. I was just about to fall asleep when I felt my phone buzzed. I groaned and checked the screen. The message was from Raph.

_Jane, we've got to talk._

I hit the reply button. _What's up?_

Raph replied in a split second. _Professor Fiddle is up. Seriously, I think he's into you or something._

_Don't be daft. _

_No, no, really. He's been asking about you constantly. Did you tell him your Great grandpa Samuel died? Because he knows._

_Maybe Joe told him._

_What on earth?! Who is Joe?_

_We're working on Fiddle's project together...And I've been dating him._

_And you keep this from me why?_

_I didn't think you wanted to know. Sorry. He just left England, actually. Sometime last night. _

_He was with you in ENGLAND?! Are you aware that he's trying to get into your pants?_

_RAPH! _

_Jane, I'm your friend. Don't hide things from me cause it makes it harder to look out for you. _

I felt guilt creep into my chest. _Sorry. _

_Whatever, no big deal. But Fiddle, now that's a big deal. He's beginning to turn into one of those stalker teachers._

_You're exaggerating, Raph._

_I might be... But it's still weird! I just bumped into him, actually. He's talking to some charismatic red head with glasses. But the red head's head isn't so red anymore. I'd say his hair was dyed._

_Male? _

_Yeap. Maybe he's gay._

_Raph! That's Joe! _

_Really? I thought a flight from England would take a little longer._

_Right. Can't be him, can it?_

_Hope it isn't. Wait, lemme check._

_What are you doing? _Raph didn't reply for a good ten minutes. _Hey, Raph?_

_Sorry, I just spoke to Fiddle... So you said Joe left England last night?_

_Yeap, early morning maybe._

_Well, he's here._

_What?!_

_Right here, with Fiddle. That's weird._

_That's IMPOSSIBLE._

_Well, you'd better believe it. I'm going to walk away now, cause they're staring at me suspiciously. Anything else you want me to relay before I get going?_

_Unless you can explain time travel, then no._

_Alright then, see you after the holidays._

_You too._

_Oh, and Jane?_

_Yeap?_

_Did you know Joe dyed his hair?_

_No._

_Alright. One more thing._

_Yes?_

_Happy birthday :x_

_Thanks :)_

I lay in my bed for a good hour trying to come up with some explanation to Joe's time hop. _Private jet? _I bit my lip, confused._ Why would he need to get to America so soon? And why wasn't he in San Francisco?_ I sent another message to Raph.

_Hey Raph, so it was just Fiddle and Joe? No one else?_

_There was another guy with them._

_What did he look like?_

_Like an older Joe. With brown hair and a beer belly. Those can't be good genes. _

_Thanks, Raph. I'll keep that in mind._

_You'd better. Don't marry him if you don't want ugly babies. _

_RAPH! Honestly! Where do you get these ideas?_

I groaned. "Grandma?" I called out.

"Yes?" Grandma Caroline poked her head in the room.

"Joe's in Portland." I handed her my cell phone.

Grandma Caroline's face contorted from confusion to shock. "How is this possible?"

"Private jet?" I offered, yawning. Grandma Caroline was muttering to herself as I drifted back to sleep.


	10. 10: A Deliberate Meeting

A/N: Again, I do not take credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Tim Burton, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker.

...

Chapter 10

...

A Deliberate Meeting

...

I flitted in and out of the two realms over the course of my Christmas break, listening to Grandma Caroline's instructions in my own, and then retreating to the gayness of the Burrow in the other. The Burrow was always filled with excitement. Fred and George made sure of that. Over the course of a fortnight, they had been setting different hexes on Percy, much to Mrs Weasley's dismay. I was barely able to play the violin at all due to the chaos, but my moods didn't seem to act up. I suppose being among such pleasant fellows did wonders. I was, in fact, down to my last day at the Weasley house. Ginny woke me up early for it, insisting we maximize every waking minute.

Ginny and I had been teasing the gnomes in the garden when Percy let out another yelp – probably the twentieth time in the past two weeks.

"Better Percy than me," Ron grumbled as he sauntered over.

"They've really got to tone it down," Ginny noted. "Mum isn't going to take much more of it."

"At least Mum can still keep them under control," Ron said, looking rather annoyed. "If not for Mum, I would have had so many bloody spiders creeping in my bed."

"Spiders I can imagine," I pursed my lips. "But why would they coat them with blood?"

Ron's face turned pale. "I-I didn't mean _that_ kind of bloody, but don't go giving them any ideas. If those foul gits heard you, who knows what I'll be waking up to!"

"Oh, Ron, don't be silly. Jane's just got a bit of an imagination."

"Bloody hell, she does!" Ron crossed his arms. "You'd better promise us never to get involved in their pranks. All hell will break lose if you do!"

"I'm not inclined to join them," I smirked. "Although I won't dismiss the idea entirely."

Ron's face contorted in horror. "You wouldn't!"

"Come on, Ron, don't make such a fuss," Ginny whined before barraging me with thoughts on the latest wizarding trends. I listened politely as she described the different kinds of Quidditch brooms on the market.

"Of course," Fred said from behind us, "We could never afford any of the upscale brooms."

"Yeah," George winced. "They cost a fortune."

"Not like you'll ever let me fly with you!" Ginny complained. "Listen to this, Jane, they absolutely forbid me from joining in, claiming me too young, or the game too rough."

"That's hardly fair," George frowned. "Bludger practice is definitely not the kind we want you to participate in."

"And I _have_ taught you to fly. Don't be ungrateful, now," Fred smirked.

The siblings argued about it all morning, only ceasing when Mrs Weasley told them off at the breakfast table. Time seemed to slow that afternoon, since Fred and George would have their heads clawed off if they pulled another prank. The degree of control Mrs Weasley had on her children was frightening.

We lolled about the messy garden in an attempt at making the rest of the morning interesting.

"Ho! Look at that!" I called out, after seeing an owl swoop into the kitchen.

"That'll be our school letters," Ron jumped up enthusiastically. "I'm finally going to Hogwarts!"

"Your enthusiasm is admirable, Ron," George yawned. "But there's more to Hogwarts than just secret passages and magic."

"There's actual studying involved," Fred cut in.

"Not that we actually study," George shrugged. "We're too brilliant for that."

"Of course, we're looking forward to going back too," Fred said as he propped himself up.

"But obviously not for the same reason Percy is," George raised his voice at a scowling Percy who was coming at them from the house.

"I suppose you've seen the owl then," Percy scowled before muttering to himself. "Honestly, why did I bother coming out?"

"Well," Ron looked at me expectantly. "Aren't you coming?"

We brushed the grass from our clothes and in no time were huddled round the kitchen table. Fred flipped through the stack, distributing them in the process.

"Well, go on," Ginny chirped next to me. "Open it!"

I tore the wax seal and took my letter out.

...

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_  
_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Ms Kingsleigh,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress

...

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:

sets of plain work robes (black)  
plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)  
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)  
by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi  
by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection  
by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales

Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS  
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Yours sincerely,  
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus  
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

...

Ginny was peering over my shoulder, giddy with excitement.

"I wish I were going too," Ginny frowned. "Hang on, aren't you only ten, Jane? Why have you got a letter?"

"I'm not entirely sure either," I frowned. I hadn't considered this. _Maybe my birthday changed in this realm._

"Well, that should be obvious –" Fred said.

"– Especially since she celebrates her birthday in August," George finished.

"Hang on, how do you two know that?" Ron stared at them, bewildered.

"Looked it up, of course," Fred smirked.

"–After we met her." George cut in.

"Found her file in the Ministry–"

"–Used Dad's name and all."

"You could get Father in trouble for that," Percy's disapproving voice floated into the room.

"And how long have you been eavesdropping, Percy?"

Percy ignored George's jab. "I see you've gotten the letters."

"_Percy_," Fred swiped a glimmering badge from his brother's hand. "What is this?"

"None of your business," Percy growled, trying desperately to take the badge back.

"Why, Freddie, I do believe Percy's been made Prefect."

"All going according to plan, then, Percy?" Fred chucked the badge back at his older brother.

"Percy's ambitious, you see," George said. "He's got it in his head to be Minister!"

Percy snorted. "I doubt you'll size up to as much."

"Better than you will, I reckon," Fred put a hand on his twin's shoulder.

Percy glowered at them before leaving the kitchen. Without the elder Weasley, the conversation took a lighter turn.

"Oh, I _do_ wish I could see the castle!" Ginny exclaimed. "I've got to wait another year."

"The castle is _huge_," George exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

"It's got a hundred and forty two staircases," Fred grinned. "We went through all of them ourselves. Can't be proper pranksters without knowing the turf, now, can we?"

"They move, of course," George shrugged. "But you get used to it."

We spent the afternoon chattering about Hogwarts, much to Ginny's frustration. When Alice arrived before dinner, I was torn. On one hand, I was looking forward to spending another month with Alice to myself before term began, but on the other, I had thoroughly enjoyed my time at the Burrow.

"See you at school, then," Ron smiled. "I hope we get sorted into Gryffindor."

"We'll disown Ron if he gets into Slytherin," Fred was leaning against the doorpost, yawning. Ron's face fell.

"FRED!" Mrs Weasley scolded before turning to me. "You're welcome here anytime, Jane dear. You too, Alice."

"Thank you, Molly. You're welcome to come by anytime," Alice smiled.

"That would be lovely," Mrs Weasley smiled.

"We're off, then," Alice said, taking a step back.

"Goodbye, then!" I took Alice's hand and apparated alongside her. In a moment, the Weasleys' smiling faces disappeared, and we were standing on a grassy strip someways off a paved road.

"We modified the place a bit," Alice said, leading me down the path. The foliage was thicker. It was as if we were entering a woodland of some sort. "Keeps us better hidden."

It didn't take long before we passed through an invisible barrier. I felt the energy ripple through me as we stepped in. The cottage was now visible, and the gate only a mile away. Alice tapped the gate and pulled me through, but the pattern of her tapping had changed considerably since I left.

"I've gotten my Hogwarts letter," I said as we entered the front door.

"Have you sent an owl?" Alice asked.

"Over at the Burrow," I replied. "Did you know my birthday was in August?" I frowned. "I wish I could get my hands on my file over at the Ministry."  
Alice seemed to mull this over. "I could have someone at the office dig up our files. There's an editor currently working on a piece on pureblood inbreeding, which I find quite amusing."

The days passed quickly. I barely thought of my own realm, allowing this one to immerse me in itself. The odd thing was how peaceful my life in the realm was. Despite all Grandma Caroline's warnings, nothing seemed to turn into my worst fear or my most dreaded weakness. I wish I could boast of my own courage in fending off the realm, but to be honest, I doubt I would have endured without Alice. I can't say I hadn't changed over the course of nearly four months, but I can say that Alice was key in keeping me from straying from the right path. _I wonder, does Draco have an Alice of his own?_

On the 31st of July, I found no inkling of crazed worry as Alice and I flitted in and out of Diagon Alley's shops to buy my school supplies.

"What else are you missing?" Alice asked me, balancing a heavy parcel on her hip. I tucked a parcel with my new quill under my arm, balancing my new saw-whet owl on my knee. _I think I'll call him Cato._

I looked over my list. "All that's left is my wand."

"I'll just pop in the office while you're at it, then – to check on that file. Ollivander's, to your right," Alice nudged me into the dim dusty shop. A bell tinkled just as I went through the front door.

I barely had time to revel at the sight of so many narrow boxes piled up on top of each other when an old man emerged from the back. He was white all over, from his hair to his complexion. Even his eyes were silvery under the faint glow of the shop. He looked at me curiously before narrowing his eyes. "…Ms Kingsleigh?"

"Yes, sir. Jane Kingsleigh, sir."

"You look very much like your father. Yes, Eliphas was a good man. He came and purchased a wand ten inches long, dragon heartstring core, made of black walnut, pliable. Very suitable for charm work... Although he took a different path… He made his share of mistakes, but he was a good man when it came to it… well, now, wand arm out, if you please," Mr Ollivander muttered, taking a long tape measure with silver markings from his pocket. "Then there's your mother, willow wood and unicorn hair, nine inches. She was a healer, and her wand was just as adequate for such a task."

I lifted my left hand and allowed him to measure me from shoulder to shoulder, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, round my head, everywhere actually.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms Kingsleigh. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two wands are alike, just as no two creatures are exactly alike," he left the tape measure to magically measure from my forehead to my chin as he went about, taking boxes off the shelves. "The wand, my dear, chooses you. Thus, another's wand won't work quite as well as your own."

The tape measure collapsed to the floor as Mr Ollivander piled the boxes on the singular spindly chair in the shop.

"Try this one, English Oak wood and unicorn hair, eight inches. Flexible. Wave it around."

I took it and waved it lightly before Mr Ollivander snatched it back. "That won't do, here, vine and dragon heartstring. Ten inches, rather springy."

I barely touched it when Mr Ollivander took it back. We went at it for another thirteen wands or so. Though I was beginning to tire, Mr Ollivander seemed to be enjoying himself. "Not to worry, not to worry – now I haven't tried this in a while – yes, yes, – it should be worth a shot," he went on. Finally, he took a tatty old box out from a pile and took out an illustrious slender wand from its casing.

"Acacia wood and phoenix feather, ten and three quarter inches, whippy," Mr Ollivander's pale eyes were terrifying.

Almost immediately after I held the wand, a rush of power seemed to overwhelm me. I waved it around, and a shower of blue sparks filled the room. Mr Ollivander seemed pleased. He placed my wand back in its box and wrapped it in brown paper. "This wand is rather tricky – both the wood and the core are particular of their owners. Powerful wand, yes, how very curious…"

As he spoke, a scrawny boy with glasses stepped into the shop, followed by a hulking man with a shaggy mane and a wild beard. The hulking man leaned on his pink umbrella and smiled down at me.

"Hello there," the gigantic man said. "First year at Hogwarts?"

I nodded. "Jane Kingsleigh, sir."

"Rubeus Hagrid," he smiled. "An' this is Harry – Harry Potter."

"Pleasure to meet you, Hagrid, Harry," I shook their hands.

"Nice to meet you, Jane," Harry smiled.

Mr Ollivander cleared his throat. "Yes, yes, I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter. You have your mother's eyes." He drew his face close to Harry's. "And that's where…" Mr Ollivander brushed Harry's hair away, and traced his scar.

Mr Ollivander seemed to forget I was present, and began sizing Harry up with his tape measure, taking about Harry's parents while he was at it. He was about to speak again, when he saw Hagrid and struck up a conversation while pulling out more boxes from the shelves. Harry turned to me hesitantly.

"It's nice to meet someone my age who isn't always staring at me," he smiled.

I shook my head. "You'll have to get used to the fuss. Everyone knows who you are, after all – and what's happened to you."

"And you do as well?"

I shrugged. "I do, but I don't know _you_ very well at all, so it wouldn't be fair for me to gawk at a stranger."

"We don't have to be strangers."

"Shall we be friends then?"

My question seemed to take him aback. He paused in shock before breaking out into a grin. "I'd like to be friends."

I grinned back. "Great!"

Mr Ollivander made Harry try a variety of wands, explaining everything as he went along. Harry tried one wand after another. A large pile of boxes began to form in the corner.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

A stream of red and gold sparks shot out of the wand's tip as Harry gave it a wave. Hagrid whooped and Mr Ollivaner cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..." as he put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it. "Curious… curious…"

"Sorry," Harry frowned. "But _what's_ curious?"

Mr Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed audibly.

"Yes," Mr Ollivander continued. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter ... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. We both paid seven gold Galleons each and headed out the shop. Alice waved at us as we went down Diagon Alley. She had a little file tucked under her arm, along with all the parcels and packages we had bought.

After proper introductions were made, Harry and I got to talking.

"You didn't tell me it was your birthday, Harry!" I exclaimed after he had told me about Hagrid's gift – he got an owl.

Harry blushed. "It was never a big deal."

"Everyone deserves to celebrate their birthday…Are you alright?"

"It's just," Harry said, forcing a smile. "I don't want to go back to the Dursleys anymore. My Aunt and Uncle aren't pleasant at all."

Harry looked as if the whole world were about to crumble. I felt so bad for him. "You can come stay with us before term starts," I blurted out. "Right, Alice? Can't he?" I pulled at Alice's sleeve.

Alice smiled. "Of course he can, Jane."

"If that's the case, yeh don' have ter go back to th' Dursleys until nex' summer!"

Harry was ecstatic. Apparently, the Dursleys had been abusing him for a decade. We ducked into a muggle cafe and ordered for dinner.

"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

"It's strange," Harry frowned, taking a bite off of his hamburger. "Everyone thinks I'm special. All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr Ollivander ... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol– sorry – I mean, the night my parents died."

Hagrid leant across the table. Behind the wild beard and eye- brows he wore a very kind smile. "Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts – I did – still do, 'smatter of fact. Plus, yeh've got a friend now."

I gave Harry an encouraging nudge and sipped on my milkshake. "Yeah, don't worry, I don't know a thing about magic either."

"Right, I'd best be goin'," Hagrid stood and handed Harry an envelope. Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, Harry. First o' September – King's Cross – it's all on yer ticket. See yeh soon, Harry, Jane! Nice meetin' yeh, Alice."

We watched as Hagrid drew stares as he left the muggle cafe. Soon after, we paid and took the train back to Norfolk. Harry and I were exhausted, and drifted to sleep as the train left the station.

_When the vortex took me to my own world, the book's details came rushing back at me. I was surprised at how the realm had forced me into the frame. There was no escape now. I would soon be thrust into the danger of Harry's battle with Voldemort. I was not looking forward to it._


	11. 11:Hoggy Warty Hogwarts

A/N: Again, I do not take credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Tim Burton, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker.

...

Chapter 11

...

Hoggy Warty Hogwarts

...

Grandma Caroline was knocking frantically at my door. It had been a few days after I met Harry, and I decided to revisit the Harry Potter novels.

"Yes, Grandma?" I said lazily.

She poked her head into the room, her mouth forming a crinkled frown. "Why aren't you dressed yet, Jane?"

"Dressed for what exactly?"

"For what indeed! It's Christmas Eve, my dear!"

"Oh, right," I frowned. "What time is it?"

"Nearly five, now get dressed or we'll be late for church."

I dressed in a warm blue jumper, and hurried downstairs. Grandma ushered me into the cold evening, eager to get to our local parish in time. As I sat next to her half-listening to the preacher, I began to observe Grandma Caroline a little more. Her shoulders were uncharacteristically hunched; her gaze lacked the cheerfulness I had always associated her with; her aura felt hollow.

All the while, I had thought that staying the Christmas break was for her to help me, – for the realm was all she talked about – but now as I watched her under the parish's warm Christmas lights, I realized it was she who needed me.

Despite the façade she wore in an attempt to convince all the relations that she was unaffected by great grandpa's death, she looked positively ill. Her husband was lost to the realm. Her son was emotionally absent because of the Curse. Now, her father who had been her sole companion for so many years had been taken by the same cursed realm.

_I shan't tell her about his wicked ways, then. I can't._

Snow began to fall as we made our way out of the church. By the time we ducked into the front door, our ankles were damp from the mile long walk. We brushed the snow off our shoulders and gulped down hot chocolate next to the fire. Grandma's thoughts were far away, probably with Samuel. Her face looked more tired as she heaved a sigh. I held her cold hand in mine, but Grandma was beyond consoling.

Shortly before midnight, Grandma Caroline retired to bed, and so I followed suit, eager to get back to the world of my books.

Almost immediately after I shut my eyes, I woke to the smell of Alice's hash. I rubbed my eyes, forcing sleep away. I glanced at the calendar, hoping I didn't lose track of time. _7th of August._

Downstairs, the breakfast table was covered with plates of food — from quiches to pies to waffles.

"What's all this?" I asked, taking a seat next to a very happy Harry. Alice smiled, taking a seat next to me.

"Happy birthday, Jane!" Harry cheered.

I blinked, and Alice winked at me, handing me a brown envelope. I knew what it contained. _The file, my file._

"Thanks," I said to them both before helping myself to apple pie. Harry was beaming with joy. After two days away from the Dursleys, he seemed happier. His cheeks were flushed with a healthy color, for we spent the days in the gardens.

"What are we to do today?" Harry asked after we had finished breakfast.

I sipped my glass of water, pondering the question. "We could try out some spells," I suggested.

"But Hagrid said we weren't allowed to practice magic outside school," Harry's face was full of worry. "Won't we get into trouble?"

"Well," I began. "Wizarding children have got the trace on them until they come of age — that means the Ministry of Magic, the government, knows when we cast spells and such. But they don't interfere if we're nowhere near Muggles, or if there's an adult around."

"Oh," Harry frowned. "It's a real shame I live with Muggles then."

"They are horrid," I said sympathetically.

"I suppose I can't come stay next summer," Harry sighed.

"Of course you can!" I smiled. "As long as it's all right with your Aunt and Uncle."

"You mean it?" Harry beamed.

"Of course I do," I shrugged, trying to place the nagging feeling that Harry really shouldn't be spending summer anywhere else but Privet Drive. _I'm sure it's something to do with the books. If only this Curse would allow me to remember!_

I took my wand out and inspected it. It was slender like an oversized needle, only broadening slightly before forming a gentle wave, its wood twisting at the shaft, like the scroll of a violin.

"Yours seems easy to handle," Harry peered over my shoulder.

"I suppose," I waved it around, comfortable with the fact that the scroll kept the wand from flinging out of my hand.

Harry took his own wand out of his pant pocket. "What shall we try first?"

"Here," I pointed to the text book. "Let's try the simpler ones."

The day passed us by rather quickly, teaching Harry and me that there was more to magic than muttering words in latin.

"We've got _repairo_ down," Harry said, pointing to his glasses.

"And we've tried _flipendo_ and _aguamenti_," I passed Harry the potatoes.

"Which got my trainers all wet," Harry frowned. "But the other spells are a bit trickier. They've got instructions on how to hold the wand, and the gestures involved."

"Well, of course," Alice said. "Spells aren't just incantations we do, you see. Mumbling incantations without basis would be absurd… They've all got purpose and meaning — every gesture's got sense behind it."

I was eager to retreat to the solitude of my room after dinner, for my mind was glued to the file Alice handed me at breakfast.

I flipped the cover open, and spread the stack of papers out on my bed.

...

_Obscurus Books_  
_Pureblood Inbreeding Archive_

_Name: Ms Jane Kingsleigh_  
_Date of Birth: 7th August 1980_  
_Blood Status: Pureblood_  
_Father: Mr Eliphas Kingsleigh, suspected death eater_  
_Mother: Mrs Camilla Kingsleigh nee Lowe, Healer_  
_Guardian: Alice Kingsleigh_  
_Notable Experiences: _  
_ 8th December 1979: Mr Eliphas Kingsleigh announces his wife Mrs Camilla Kingsleigh nee Lowe's pregnancy. Mr Regulus Black was named as the child's godfather, though he did not survive the remainder of the year._  
_ 12th April 1980: Rumour of Mr Lucius Malfoy and Mr Eliphas Kingsleigh arranging for their heirs to be betrothed arose. This was dispelled by Eliphas himself, in a secret correspondence between himself and the Longbottoms._  
_ 19th May 1980: Eliphas Kingsleigh is murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named after rumour of his betrayal is confirmed by Bellatrix Lestrange when he was allegedly caught meeting with Albus Dumbledore. Other versions state that he was murdered because Eliphas had refused to kill his brother Samuel who married a muggle._  
_ 7th August 1980: Ms Jane Kingsleigh is born. Camilla suffers from an unknown disease. She is rendered unconscious after childbirth. _  
_ 8th August 1980: Camilla dies in her sleep. Her final letter requested Jane to be raised by her fellow healer Miriam Strout. This was not deemed possible due to the request of extant relations._  
_ 11th August 1980: custody of Jane Kingsleigh transfered to accused death eater Mr Samuel Kingsleigh and his muggle wife, Beth Kingsleigh._  
_ 10th February 1991: Ms Jane Kingsleigh survives Muggle train attack, using magic to prevent the train cart from crushing her. She is unconscious and is sent to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Attack left traces of dark magic, suspected dark wizards involved. Beth Kingsleigh's body was retrieved from the scene. Mr Samuel's body was not found. He is presumed dead._  
_ 15th April 1991: Ms Jane Kingsleigh regains consciousness and is called in as a witness to the ongoing investigation of the Muggle Train Incident of 10th February 1991. Custody is transfered to Ms Alice Kingsleigh, a cousin from France._

...

_Obscurus Books_  
_Pureblood Inbreeding Archive_

_Kingsleigh Family_

_Although not part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight 1930s "truly pure-blood" British wizarding families, the Kingsleighs, like the Potters, were indeed pure-bloods. Their exclusion from the list is most likely due to their Irish origins, only moving to Britain in the later half of the 1600s._

_The Kingsleighs were often said to be a family of black and white. There were either good apples or bad apples — no one was in between. They were known to be uncommonly keen, exceedingly charming, and infinitely devious, thus their family crest depicts a flowing fall with the Irish words "Ritheann uisce domhain go ciúin" inscribed, literally translated as "deep waters run quietly." It is often said that one could not double cross a Kingsleigh for they would either be talked out of it or otherwise perilously hexed. Hogwarts often found Kingsleighs either in Ravenclaw or in Slytherin. Having a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff was unheard of._

_Identified by their enchanting blue eyes, with the late Samuel Kingsleigh being the only exception, the members of this family were said to be terrifyingly bewitching. Rumour is that the secret to their enchantment lies within their eyes. Old Irish tales support this, claiming that an ancient family called the Muire had eyes "as blue as the sea that caught hold of any a soul's will."_

_The Kingsleighs arrived from Ireland in 1650, with Augustus Kingsleigh as the head of the house and Mathias was later was born as the heir. Augustus also had a daughter named Jeniffer. The family rose to social recognition after Augustus joined Edward Bland's expedition to America. He had been a key element to the voyage, for the crew was often plagued by magical creatures out at sea. The voyages had rendered the family quite wealthy and quite respectable. _

_However, anti-Irish sentiments were still at large in the Muggle world, and thus they were one of the first to push for the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in 1692, after years of Muggles harassing the new family due to their origins. This political move spurred them further up social ranks. _  
_The Kingsleighs were known to produce male heirs, and the heirs marry well-bred witches including those from the Black, Prewett, Meliflua and Perks. Augustus himself married a prominent witch named Aubrey Fawley, a family belonging to the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Jeniffer married into the Potter family while Mathias married a member of the Rosier family. The female members of the family were also known to have married respectable magic folk. _

_Though the line has remained pure-blooded, the Kingsleighs did not hold extreme prejudice against muggle-borns. It is likely that due to belonging to elite social circles, they had found their matches whilst mingling with their peers rather than actively pairing their children with pure-bloods._

_By the late 20th century, Eliphas and Samuel Kingsleigh were thought to be the sole heirs of the Kingsleigh name and fortune. Eliphas was the favored son, as well as the firstborn. He therefore succeeded the family fortune and business ventures. Eliphas married a pure-blood witch named Camilla Lowe in 1975, while Samuel married a muggle named Beth in 1980. Samuel was disowned by his brother shortly before the later met his death, for deeper reasons than his marriage. _

_It is said that Samuel was keen on using Dark Magic to his advantage, and married Beth for this particular reason. There are spells rumoured to require a blood sacrifice from Muggle relations or partners that could grant the caster an extended life span, or heightened magical abilities. Whatever it was, Samuel's dealings with dark magic had caused a rift between himself and his brother._

_Both brothers were accused of being death eaters. Eliphas, however, was cleared of all charges when Albus Dumbledore revealed him to be a double agent of sorts. Samuel claimed to have been under the Imperius curse, despite having played key roles in many of the Dark Lord's plots. His plea did not explain his subsequent marriage of Beth. He was nevertheless acquitted of all charges. _

_Eliphas had been close to Regulus Black, whom he named as his daughter Jane's godfather even before she had been born. Neither Eliphas nor Regulus were able to see the child. Shortly after Camilla's death, Samuel was given custody of Jane._

_Alice Kingsleigh was discovered to be a lost relation from France. She moved to London in 1990 to work for Obscurus Books._

_After the Muggle Train Incident where dark magic destroyed the train, killing Beth Kingsleigh and other civilians, custody of Jane Kingsleigh was transfered to Alice. _

_Jane Kingsleigh had been confined in St Mungo's for three months, waking up with gaps in her memory. The Ministry suspects foul play, stating that a memory charm had erased important pieces of the puzzle._

_Suspicions have been raised on Samuel Kingsleigh with respect to the Muggle Train Incident, speculating that the incident may have been caused by his old comrades in an attempt to punish him for marrying a muggle. Others speculate that he himself had orchestrated the incident to make his wife's murder appear as an accident._

_Jane Kingsleigh is the first ever female heir to the fortune._

...

I rubbed my eyes, feeling tired. How very intricate.

The rest of the summer floated by like the wispy afternoon clouds. I had not gone back to my own realm, and for this I was more than grateful.

I was out in the back garden, sitting delicately on the grass, careful not to crease my green dress. I was practicing my spellwork when Harry came out of the house.

"Alice says we'll be leaving for King's Cross Station shortly. She's got a carriage of some sort flying us to London."

I looked up at him, my _colovaria_ charm having successfully turned the white roses red. "A flying carriage?"

Just as the words left my mouth, a silver coach drawn by two grey winged horses descended from the sky, causing Harry and me to jump back in surprise. The horses landed smoothly outside our gate, and Alice stepped out of the carriage.

"Granian winged horses," she smiled, petting the creatures before turning to us. "They're quite fast, so you shan't be late for your train. Shall we get going then?"

Despite the Granian's speed, we flew over the English country leisurely, the morning sun seeping into the coach. The cities below had just begun stirring, their veins only beginning to flow with hot citizen blood.

Alice parked the coach in front of King's Cross Station, the carriage invisible to muggles.

"I must be off," she said after helping us with our luggage. Alice gave me a hesitant smile. "I wish I could see you off…"

"It's alright," I assured her. "We'll find our way."

Alice knelt down to match my height, her clear blue eyes meeting my stormy ones. "Trust the balance where your heart and your head meet, dear Jane."

I gave her a weak smirk. "Be back before you know it," I whispered, hugging her.

Alice stood next to the coach as Harry and I entered the station. I stole one last glance at Alice before getting lost in the muggle crowd.

Unfortunately, in that moment, Harry had disappeared.

"Harry?" I called out. "Where are you?"

There was no response. I looked about the station, counting the platforms I passed. 7, 8, 9, this should be it… A few young witches and wizards ran straight through the barrier between platform 9 and 10, disappearing into the brick wall like magic.

_Why, they're going through the wall!_

I gripped my trolley a little tighter and clenched my jaw. I took a deep breath and ran to the brick barrier at full throttle. Instead of feeling the wall ram against my face, I felt nothing. Instead, I passed through the brick wall unscathed and found myself staring at a scarlet steam engine parked next to a platform packed with people. The sign overhead read _Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock_. I glanced behind me to find a wrought iron passageway, the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it.

I glanced around. Harry was still nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, a cool hand rested on my shoulder, making me jump. I turned around.

"Ms Kingsleigh," Lucius Malfoy's icy voice pierced my warm morning. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Good morning, Mr Malfoy," I sighed. "You gave me quite a fright!"

"Ms Kingsleigh," Narcissa Malfoy appeared with Draco by her side. The young boy had a smug expression. Confidence — no, pride — dripped from his very being.

"Good morning, Mrs Malfoy," I greeted back.

"Draco, don't forget your manners," Narcissa cooed.

Draco's pride waned. I suppose eleven year old boys still thought girls had cooties, or whatever the wizarding equivalent of cooties would be. I decided to help him out. "Good morning," I smiled.

His face paled as if he had seen Medusa. "Good morning," he said curtly.

His greeting seemed to satisfy his mother, who had proceeded in combing back her son's hair.

"I'll be boarding, then," I said, inching away from the Malfoy family. "Don't want to miss the train."

"Very well," Mrs Malfoy smiled tightly. "Have a pleasant journey."

"Thank you. It was a pleasure seeing you all," I called out before pushing my trolley to the train. I grabbed my trunk and slung my messenger bag across my shoulder. Cato was in his cage, protesting as I grabbed it unceremoniously along with my violin.

"Sorry, Cato," I muttered. I ducked into a compartment and settled in, stroking Cato's feathers to calm him down.

"Jane!" Harry slipped into the compartment. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Harry! Thank heavens you've arrived. How did you manage the barrier?"

"Had a little help," he said taking a seat beside me.

"Excuse me," Ron's head popped in. "Do you mind? Oh — Jane! I didn't see _you_ there."

"Hey, Ron," Fred and George popped their heads in.

"Oi, Jane," Fred winked. "Didn't see _you_ there."

"I _do _seem to be going unnoticed quite often today."

"Harry," George spoke, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," we chimed as they scampered off.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"And have you really got that…" he pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his fringe to show his lightning scar.

The boys carried on in this manner for quite some time. Ron asked Harry about his scar, Voldemort's attack, living with muggles, while Harry asked Ron about his wizarding family. I barely heard the lot of it, for I had fallen asleep.

A horrible yell woke me. I glanced around the compartment. Harry and Ron seemed to have consumed a mountain full of sweets, and had become best friends since. They were currently standing, facing Draco and two rather bulky boys. One of them threw Ron's rat Scabbers to the window and stormed off, the other boy following him.

"What is going on?" I asked, rather flustered. Draco's eyes flickered at me before disappearing after his friends.

A girl with bushy hair stormed into our compartment, wondering the same thing. Ron and Harry were bent over Scabbers, whispering to themselves. The girl turned to me.

"I haven't introduced myself," she held her hand out. "Hermione Granger. You were asleep when I came by a while back."

I shook her hand. "Jane Kingsleigh."

"Nice to meet you, Jane," she glanced at Ron and Harry. "You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up the front to ask the driver and he says we're nearly there. Those two haven't been fighting, have they? They'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

I shook my head. "They've just had too much sweets is all."

"Well, people outside have been behaving rather childishly, racing up and down the corridors," she said in a sniffy voice before turning on her heels and leaving the compartment.

Ron glared at her as she left. "Who does she think she is?" he muttered as himself, Harry and I pulled on our school robes.

A voice rung throughout the train, announcing our arrival. We left the compartment and joined the crowd thronging the corridor. The crowd pushed their way towards the door as the train came to a stop. The chilly night air hit me like a snowball in the winter. We stepped out onto a small dark platform.

Hagrid's voice bellowed into the night. "Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! All right there, Harry?" He towered over the crowd, a lamp swinging in his hand. We stumbled after Hagrid down a steep narrow path. I lost Harry and Ron again, falling to the back of the pack.

"Kingsleigh," Draco's voice echoed beside me. "Why were you sitting with Potter and Weasley on the train? You could have shared our compartment, you know."

"Well, Malfoy, I would've," I said carefully. "But I didn't think you'd be very keen on having me, seeing as you avoid me like the plague."

Draco seemed at a loss for words, whether because we had turned the corner or because he was working up an insult I was unsure. I gasped at the sight before us. The narrow path had opened suddenly on to the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. I ended up sharing a boat with Draco and his two friends — apparently named Crabbe and Goyle. Despite Draco's many deficiencies, he was a perfect gentleman, helping me into the boat.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, "Right then – FORWARD!"And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over us as we sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!' yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; we all bent our heads and the little boats carried us through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. We were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking us right underneath the castle, until we reached a kind of under- ground harbour, where we clambered out on to rocks and pebbles. We climbed up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. We then walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face that hid a hint of a smile. Hagrid had introduced her as Professor McGonagall. We followed her into the castle until we came to a small chamber off the hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she began. "The start- of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup …"

I hadn't heard much of the rest of her speech, for Draco was whispering loudly.

"Of course, if all the first years were from wizarding families, she wouldn't have to explain all this," he told Crabbe.

"Of course," his friend muttered in agreement.

We were lead to the Great Hall, and I nervously waited my turn to be sorted. All one had to do was put on the Sorting Hat and be done with it.

I was called shortly after Hermione Granger, who was sorted into Gryffindor. I stepped forward, and sat on the stool, placing the hat on my head.

"Jane Kingsleigh," it said. No one else seemed to hear it speak. "Let's see, then. I see many contradictions within your heart, yes… Brave, yet reluctant … Quick-witted, yet prudent… Mischievous without malice… And yet for the task set in your heart — the task you are destined to accomplish, there is but one place for you —"

"Hold on, how do you know that I _can_ accomplish it? I barely think myself capable…" I whispered.

"Ah, and here is the flaw of your humility — you do not see your own worth. So, where shall I sort you with such a heart? Shall I sort you into Ravenclaw for your keen mind? Yet am I to put you into Ravenclaw when your treasure lies not in your wit alone?"

"Well, I shan't allow myself to be split into four halves if you can't resolve the matter," I thought gamely.

The hat gave a low chuckle. "And maybe your reply does give you away, hmmm?"

"Well, what does that mean?"

"It means for you to trust my sorting."

"Does it, then?"

"Shall I sort you now? Shall you trust my judgement?"

"Yes," I said, setting my jaw.

"If so," the Sorting Hat said this aloud now, before it bellowed, "RAVENCLAW!"


	12. 12: The Troll

A/N: Again, I do not take credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Tim Burton, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker.

There's a lot of contention on how many students Hogwarts actually has per year. Some say there are a thousand and we just don't know of them because they're never mentioned, and in fact, JK Rowling does say the same in an interview… But I'm more inclined to believe that there are a fewer number of them — maybe 350~400? — And that's the number I shall be using in this fanfiction. (There are a lot of reasons for this, but I won't explain it here.)

Also, since barely any information was given about Ravenclaw's schedule, I worked out my own little timetable in my head based on speculation, conjecture and such. Therefore the class schedules of each house are not entirely based on the books…

Lastly, there are two characters here who have appeared in the movies but have not had significant roles in the books. I would expect that Alice, Jane, and the Kingsleigh line's appearance in the realm could also have affected when these characters appeared, and even whether or not they did. In the movies, Hestia and Flora Carrow were in Slytherin, if I'm not mistaken… But I'm keen on having them in Ravenclaw, for I am terribly fond of the pair.

Enjoy the chapter!

...

Chapter 12

...

The Troll

...

_Dear Alice,_

_Hogwarts is wonderful! The sun is currently sinking over the horizon, and I've got the best view of it from my dormitory._

_I hope you won't be disappointed to hear that I've been sorted into Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat urged me to trust his decision, but I wonder if I've been sorted here because I lacked the muchness to be put in Gryffindor. Both Ron and Harry had been sorted into Gryffindor. I can't help but feel a little inadequate._

_In any case, the feast was wonderful! I sat next to a fellow first year named Terry Boot and a second year named Cho Chang. Quite a few of my housemates have been made aware of our family, and they aren't entirely convinced that I haven't been inducted as a bigoted pure-blood just yet, but they were all perfectly nice. Oh, but don't you worry, I would be just as happy on my own if it comes to that._  
_After I've eaten more apple crumble than is good for me, Professor Dumbledore got us all to sing the Hogwarts school anthem before we were lead to our common rooms. It sounded un-song-like for we all sang it in our own little tunes. I do believe mine was very Celtic — I'm staying true to the family, so there._

_A prefect by the name of Robert Hilliard lead us up a winding stairwell, to a tall door with a bronze eagle knocker. He had to answer a riddle before the eagle let us in — I suppose I'll be doing that often as well._

_The common room is just stellar. It's a wide circular room with a midnight blue carpet and many arched windows decked with blue and bronze silk. The ceiling is enchanted with stars. (I do think it'll be helpful when studying for Astronomy.) We've got an excellent view of the school grounds from here — we can see the Quidditch pitch, the Black Lake, the Forbidden Forest and even the surrounding mountains — and the common room is fully furnished with plush chairs, tables and bookcases. It's a great place to study and read, but most of the older students just retreated to their dormitories after the feast. _

_I've got lovely people in my year. I'm sharing a dorm with Hestia and Flora Carrow, a perfectly nice pair. (Ravenclaw hasn't got much first years, you see — actually, there are only fifty-eight first years in total. Hufflepuff has got the most number of people, with Gryffindor close after. Ravenclaw comes next with fourteen of us, and Slytherin with only ten first years. And the girls are even less than the boys — only six — so the girls were roomed in threes.) The two girls are rather tall for our age. They've got thin brown hair that falls to their shoulders and their thin lips and high foreheads give them a permanent bored expression. They tend to talk in hushed tones, but I don't mind. I suppose we'll get along better as the term progresses._

_Did you know that Ravenclaws have to take an extra subject on Fridays? The more advanced subjects aren't offered to first years, so I think I'll be signing up for music._

_I wasn't supposed to post this until the morning, but the Grey Lady — she's our house ghost — and I got to talking, and she's offered to help me sneak into the owlery where Cato is. It isn't a long way from the Ravenclaw Tower, so I suppose I'll be there and back in no time._

_I miss you._

_Yours,_

_Jane_

...

The sun crept into our dormitory quite early. My bed was nearest to the window, for Hestia and Flora wished to have their beds next to each other. I glanced over at their still sleeping figures, hoping that we would all become friends in no time. Our windows were open, letting the soft winds of Autumn whisper in my ears, and making the sky blue silk eiderdowns flutter round the edges.

"Hestia, Flora," I called out across the room. "I do believe it's morning."

Hestia groaned. "Is it already? I can still taste last night's treacle tart — and I've brushed my teeth twice last night."

Flora stirred in the next bed. _Her eyes are a bit livelier than Hestia's_, I distinguished. "I do hope they serve eclairs for breakfast… Although it seems unlikely."

"We'll all get pudgy if that's the case," Hestia sighed, sitting up.

"Why do you think there are more pudgy students in Hufflepuff than any other house?" Flora said, stretching her arms. "They're nearest to the kitchens, and I can bet you they just can't help themselves to it."

"I wouldn't mind sneaking out a roll once in a while either," Hestia said, biting her thin lips.

"Did you know that Helga Hufflepuff had made most of the recipes they use at Hogwarts?" I said, stepping out of bed.

"No, was that in _Hogwarts, A History?_" Flora asked.

Hestia sighed. "There is so much to study, isn't there?"

I decided that I liked the Carrow twins, with their soft voices that came out in casual drags. I stepped into the bathroom, brushed my teeth and took a warm shower before coming out in my robes. My hair had grown longer, and fell in ringlets above my shoulder.

"We've got double potions first," Flora said before claiming the bathroom.

"With the Hufflepuffs," Hestia finished, while running a comb through her straight brown hair. "Imagine brewing a disagreeable draft in _potions_. Oh, that's _dreadful_!"

"Surely we won't be doing any potion work on our first day, will we?" I faced the mirror, straightening out my tie.

"I suppose not," Hestia glanced at the cuckoo wall clock as it began to chime. "I'm coming in, Flora, or we'll be late for breakfast!"

Much to Flora's dismay, breakfast did not have eclairs on the menu. We settled for a few rolls and orange juice.

"Oh, look," Flora yawned. "The mail's here."

An army of owls came flying into the Great Hall, swooping down and dropping their packages in front of students. The Carrows had a little box each, and Cato had perched on my shoulder, a letter in his beak. I took it, recognizing the Kingsleigh wax seal from the file. _Alice. Without a doubt._

_..._

_Darling Jane,_

_You mustn't allow perception to cloud your judgement. There is more to muchness than belonging to a certain house, just as there is more to intelligence than knowing the textbook by heart. Ritheann uisce domhain go ciúin, remember? To trust the balance where your head and your heart meet, you must first find the balance. _

_Besides, Harry and Ron are still your friends. I should think that distance alone does not sever a well linked bond. I'm sure you'll find genuine friends in no time. Having said that, be perceptive in your judge of character, for you never know who may be lurking round the corner._

_There are a few things I have uncovered — the Curse has been at work. _

_You may have to stay the holidays at Hogwarts if things go awry. _

_With love,_

_Alice_

_P.S. The place feels empty without you — and not just because it is._

_..._

The week had past uneventfully, and for that reason, I was on edge.

We had yet to brew anything in Potions, for Professor Snape was keen on having us learn how to prepare ingredients before even thinking of brewing in our cauldrons. This was fortunate for the Hufflepuffs, who were mostly terrified of Professor Snape's figure looming over them. When our first flying lesson came round, not one from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw had broken any bones. In fact, Madam Hooch had been pleased at all our progress. Even Herbology with the Slytherins had gone by without a single snide comment from Draco.

So, on Friday evening, when Robert Hilliard had gathered all the Ravenclaw students in the Common Room, I was expecting the worst.

"All right, so Halloween is coming up, and you all know what that means!" he bellowed.

Excited whispers resonated through the Common Room.

"Right, settle down then," he continued. "Of course, we've got to explain the thing to the first years — as well as set this year's motif. Eddie! Edmund Spiers, where the bloody hell are you — oh, there you are! Right, Eddie, would you do the honors?"

"_Eddie_" Spiers, a third year with a chiseled jaw, high cheekbones and light hair took his place next to Robert. He ran his hands through his hair and smiled. "Well, as you all _should_ know, every Halloween at Hogwarts, there's a fancy feast at the Great Hall."

"Fancy is an understatement," Cho Chang called out, inciting giggles from her friends.

Robert frowned at the interruption and nudged Eddie to continue. "Well, anyway, we Ravenclaws think there's more to celebrating Halloween than just a feast — there's so much more fun to be had. For this reason, every year after the feast, we hold a costume ball in our own Common Room."

The first years began whispering to each other eagerly.

"And each year, we keep it top secret," Robert added cheerfully.

"Right, Robert. This ball is quite important to us. It brings Ravenclaws together, you see, even if we don't always like one another and compete over academic marks. This event keeps us as tightly knit as a family."

"At least, as tight knit as a competitive family could be," Robert added.

A hand shot up. It was Sue Li's. She sat next to her cousin, Sam Li who was also in our year. They kept to themselves, and did their homework in secret. "How are we going to keep the Professors from knowing?"

"Oh," Eddie waved his hand. "That's not a problem. Professor Flitwick _founded_ the tradition, after all."  
Robert snorted. "Yeah, when the Ravenclaws were hexing each other left and right."

"Alright, then!" Eddie cut him off. "Now, to the agenda. We've got to decide on this years motif, as well as assign the first years into their committees. I suppose it's Penelope's turn," Eddie said before sitting down.

Penelope Clearwater, a prefect with long curly blonde hair took the stage and conjured up a floating blackboard. "There are three committees — food, decorations, and entertainment. Before we decide on the motif, let's split the first years, shall we?"

Hestia, Flora and I were assigned to entertainment along with Sam and Sue Li. Terry, Anthony G, Padma P, Lisa T and Michael C were given over to decorations and Stephen C, Kevin E, Morag and Mandy were thrown to food.

"Why is it that all the boys are in food?" I heard Lisa whisper to Padma.

"Suppose it's so they'll sneak enough in?" Padma replied.

"Well, don't we need them for decorations too?"

"We've got three of them," Padma replied. "Sam's the only boy in entertainment."

Penelope called the pair's attention, making Lisa blush. We then went on to set a motif. So many strange suggestions came up, a friendly reminder that I belonged to the wittiest quirkiest Hogwarts house.

"…We could go all black…"

"…how about modern villans? Someone could go as You-Know-Who!" "No, that's too terrifying!"

"…What about human transfiguration?" "But that's N.E.W.T. Level! What if the spell goes wrong?"

In the end, we had settled on fantastic beasts and creatures as a motif. The Ravenclaws could talk of nothing else for the next few weeks. Eddie was right, though. The students began to mingle more instead of holing up in their dormitories to study.

"Is it true then?" Marietta Edgecombe pestered me as we helped put up the decorations. "Has Harry Potter really been made seeker of Gryffindor?"

Harry had told me about this when we had History of Magic together. "Yes, he has."

The five girls — including Cho Chang — giggled obnoxiously. "Aren't you three at all interested in him?" one of the giggling dolls asked, twirling her hair in the process. I think her name was Maria.

Hestia looked up from her Astronomy book. "Don't you all have _better_ things to do?" she said lazily.

"Well, she's right," Marietta sighed. "There are _much_ better looking boys."

Hestia clenched her jaw. Flora did the same. "That's not what she meant," Flora hissed.

I looked at the twins nervously. "Shall we get to the Halloween Feast then?"

Hestia and Flora snapped out of their seething state and smiled at me. "Sure," they said together. We were making our way to the Great Hall, talking about the pieces I would play on my violin for the Ravenclaw Ball, when my messenger bag was taken from my arm.

"Oh!" I yelped, seeing my bag float in mid-air. "Peeves, you wretched poltergeist! Give that back this instance!"

Peeves laughed, revealing his wicked dark eyes with a pop. "Ickle Firsties," he laughed before floating off.

"Go ahead," I waved at Hestia and Flora. "I've got a ghost to catch."

The twins gave me a hesitant wave and went on to the Great Hall. I took my wand out and chased after Peeves.

"Give that back, or I'll get rid of you once and for all!"

Peeves froze and turned to me. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, but I would."

"Ickle Firsty knows how to play," Peeves smirked before throwing me my messenger bag.

"Thank you," I caught my bag and slipped my wand into my sleeve.

Peeves gave another laugh, but his voice choked before he finished. I turned around, wondering what had shocked him so. Professor Quirrell was wracking his hands nervously. I looked behind him and stifled a scream. A large troll was trailing the Professor, a sort of dazed look on his face.

"Professor," I gasped.

He looked up at me, bewildered. "Ah, M-ms K-kingsl-leigh! W-w-what br-brings y-you h-here?"

"Professor, don't be startled, but there's a troll behind you," I said calmly.

Professor Quirrell did not respond in a similar manner. Instead, fear crept into his eyes and he bolted past me, in the direction of the Great Hall. "T-t-tr-tr-trooll!" he yelled.

I turned around, to see the troll towering over me, holding up its club. Before I could grab my wand from my coat sleeve, I felt the troll's club collide with my head.

_The vortex took me back to my own body, but the throbbing in my head would not stop._

I groaned. My head felt like a thousand elephants had sat on it. Grandma Caroline came in with a tray of milk and cookies.

"Merry Christmas!" she smiled.

I managed a grimace.

Her smile disappeared. "What's happened?"

"A troll clobbered me. Oh, my head," I groaned.

Grandma sat beside me and stroked my hair. "Now, now," she soothed. "It could be worse."

"Am I dead?" I asked, pressing my eyes in an attempt to stop the pain.

Grandma Caroline chuckled. "No, you're not. You'd feel it if you were."

"Well, this doesn't feel too good either," I sighed. "And I do think the books have taken their own form. There are so many inconsistencies now."

Grandma Caroline smiled. "Authors do not control the realms. The books run their own course."

"What would I ever do without you, Grandma?"

Grandma smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."


	13. 13: The Stone

A/N: Again, I do not take credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Tim Burton, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker.

I've made a CS Lewis reference in this chapter! (This _insanely_ long chapter, might I add…)

...

Chapter 13

...

The Stone

...

Grandma Caroline was sneaky. She pulled out an application form to no less than three English universities and cajoled me into applying as a transferee student. It was her Christmas present to me — or mine to her. I wasn't quite sure of the distinction just yet. I had nearly signed my name as Jane _Kingsleigh_ instead of Jane _March_, which would have complicated things indeed. It took the whole day, and by the end of it, I was thoroughly exhausted.

After reading a Christmas greeting from Raph, and sending one in return, I went to bed and expected to turn up in the hospital wing. Instead, I drifted into blackness and spent the evening writhing in pain, not even feeling the vortex which brought me back. My shirt clung to my sweat drenched back and I was panting. My headache was back with a vengeance.

My phone rang next to me, only increasing the throbbing in my head.

I picked up after the twelfth ring. "Hello?"

"Hey," Joe's cheery voice blared in my ear.

I moaned in response.

"Not a good time?" he asked.

"Not exactly."

"Well, Merry Christmas, Jane."

"You too."

A pause.

"Everything all right?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, my head just hurts."

"Hey, I have to tell you something important…"

"Yeah?"

"I think you should know… Nevermind, I'll tell you when you get back."

"Hey, wait—"

Joe hung up. I tossed my phone on the floor and squeezed my eyes shut until I finally fell asleep.

"She's waking! Madam Pomfrey! Come quickly!" I heard someone's faint voice call out.

I let out a groan. My head was still throbbing, though much less than in my own realm. I gingerly pried my eyes open to find a small cluster of people around me.

"Thank _Merlin_, you're awake, Jane! It's nearly been nearly two months!" Flora exclaimed.

"It's _past_ two months, Hestia," Ron frowned.

"_I'm_ Hestia, Ron!"

"And I'm Flora!"

"Two months of this," Harry smiled at me. "That's what you've caused."

"Dumbledore and Flitwick were _furious_ with Quirrell when you'd been found," Fred pipped from my right.

"Yeah," George went on. "The git left you for dead, he did."

"Reckon McGonagall would've hexed him if he turned around."

I gave them a weak smile. "What else have I missed?"

Harry smiled. "Christmas, and New Years. Tomorrow's the start of term — speaking of which —"

"_Lots_ of lessons," Hermione appeared out of nowhere and dumped a stack of books and papers on my bedside. "Here, I've copied some notes for you."

"_Hermione_," Ron grumbled. "She's just woken up, and you're talking about homework?"

"Well, you haven't been talking to Hestia and Flora as much as I have," Hermione turned her nose up. "Jane _needs_ to ace her classes."

"Why have I got to do that?" I asked.

"Is this about Sam Li? That boy in our year?" Ron quipped.

"Yes, Ron," Hestia sighed before turning to me. "He and his cousin Sue Li weren't very nice, you see. They were poking fun at you with Terry Boot — for the whole troll incident. We told them off, but they wouldn't stop until we agreed to a bet, you see. They think that you'd be at the bottom of all the Ravenclaws when exams come. If you _do_ lose, they'll lock you up in the Ravenclaw Tower's secret peak — and they'll do it."

"If they can _find_ the peak," Flora mumbled. "It's hidden after all, and no one knows how to get in there."

"Even if they don't, it would be nice to show them up," I said thoughtfully. "And if they lose?"

"Fred and George are using them as test subjects for their pranks," Hestia shrugged. "Before you protest, they suggested it."

I looked up at Fred and George in shock. "Why would you do that?"

They smiled at me. "Why would we do that, she says."

"If you think about it," Fred went on.

"Why wouldn't we?" George finished.

"Just WHAT do you think you're all doing here?" Madam Pomfrey rushed in.

She shooed them all away, and commanded me to rest. I spent the next few weeks catching up on lessons, doing surprisingly well in all my classes. Eddie was on my side, and was kind enough to help me through the subjects I had difficulty in. Obsession was an understatement. In fact, Harry, Ron and Hermione had decided to force me outside after a month of cooping myself up in the common room.

"Come off it, I'm not even etiolated at all!" I protested.

"Yeah right, Jane," Ron scoffed. "You're paler than Malfoy."

"Hestia, Flora, please, tell them."

Instead, they said "we're going with you." Traitors.

By the end of May, I was prepped and ready when Harry sat next to me in History of Magic.

"I need your help," he began.

"It's all in the book, Harry," I dismissed him.

"No, not on _this_," he said looking about him suspiciously. "Have you heard of the Philosopher's Stone?"

He had my attention in a snap. "Nicholas Flamel's elixir of life?"

"Yes, that one," Harry ran his hands through his messy hair. "It's here, on the third floor. Snape's trying to steal it."

"Professor Snape?" I frowned.

"Yes, _he_ let the troll in on Halloween so he could sneak into the third floor. And yesterday, I heard him threatening Professor Quirrell about something."

"Well, Quirrell isn't very hard to threaten."

"He's after it, Jane, I'm sure of it."

I stared at him incredulously. Finally, I responded. "Why do you need _my_ help?"

"Because if _anyone_ would have enough nerve and wit to get to the bottom of this, it would be you." Harry's eyes were pleading at me. "And it doesn't matter what house you're in, Jane, you're my friend — my first friend."

I sighed. That did it. "_Honestly_, Harry, what would you do without me?"

Harry broke out into a grin before frowning again. "I half wish you'd come to detention with us tonight."

I stifled a laugh. "I don't think I'd _ever_ agree to that."

That evening, I finally found the secret entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower's secret peak. I had stayed up to get some more studying done in the common room. Everyone else had gone to bed. A strong wind blew into the common room, and the tapestry shivered. All but one, at least. I approached the tapestry behind an unused bookshelf, and wedged myself between it and the wall. After a little wiggling, all I could see was pitch blackness. There was a crevasse somewhere to the left of my head, so I drew my wand from up my sleeve and tapped it twice. It gave a light sort of moan.

_There's something here._

I knew I had to say something. I knew there was a code — there was always some sort of code or incantation of some sort.

_Think, Jane, think!_ Rowena Ravenclaw's secret peak was said to have been her favorite spot in the whole castle — somewhere she would hide when Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin sought her out to break a deadlock in another one of their arguments.

"Something about peace, then," I muttered. The crevasse moaned a little louder this time, as if urging me on. _Well, Jane, what do you know?_

"What are you doing?" a voice emerged from the dark. I jumped in fright. I looked up to see the Grey Lady's faint glow "Oh, Jane Kingsleigh, it's only you."

"Can you help me get into the secret peak?"

The Grey Lady sighed. "I knew someone would find it sooner or later. I'm just glad it was _you_, Jane."

"So it's real? It's here?"

"I will help you on one condition — you are to play the violin for me whenever you wish to go up there. It's a sacred place that has lost all its joy since… Since it was last visited."

I agreed to the ghost's terms, and brought my violin down from my dormitory.

"All you must do," she said, "is tap round the stone's wound and say '_clock waltz_' — go on."

I gave it a go, and lo and behold. The stone wall behind me crumbled silently, forming a small passageway. I stepped in, and the passage closed behind me. The Grey Lady led me up a stone stairwell. We entered a small room that acted as a wind tunnel, its walls but pillars holding up the pointed roof above us.

The Grey Lady gazed into the distance. It had turned dark, and the stars had come out. I began to play a lullaby, one I had heard often in my own realm.

"She was like you, you know," she said after some time. "Rowena Ravenclaw was creative and intelligent and well loved. But she was also brave and kind. When Godric Gryffindor had been just about ready to set flame to Salazar Slytherin, Rowena hid him here. She hid him until his rage had subsided. But he was still Salazar Slytherin. She couldn't change him…"

A cry echoed from the Forbidden Forest, and I ceased my playing.

"What was that?"

The Grey Lady frowned before disappearing without another word. I dashed down the stairwell and whispered the two words to get past the wall. I wriggled out the tapestry and raced out the common room. The sun was still resting, allowing the moon to spread her reach across the night sky.

I ran so fast, I completely forgot about the threat of Filch. In fact, I completely forgot to mind my way, which is why, I shouldn't have been surprised to have collided squarely with another human body.

"I am so sorry," I said, scrambling up. I was surprised to find myself face to face with Draco.

"Jane," he exclaimed. Surprise was written all over his face. "I didn't expect to find _you_ running around after curfew."

"I was studying. Then I heard a shout from the forest."

"Oh, that," he smirked. "I had a little adventure in the woods."

"So _you_ let out that high pitched scream?"

"It was not high pitched."

"But it _was_ you?"

"Of cou —" Draco glared at me. "You're trying to trick me."

"I'm not even trying," I smirked. "But I didn't run out of the common room to tease you."

"Oh, you didn't?"

"Contrary to what you believe, Malfoy, not everything is about you."

"Well, what _did_ you run out of the common room for? Did you run out to see Potter?" there was bitter envy in his voice. He hated the thought of being passed over.

"I wanted to know what happened. The Grey Lady turned bizarre after your little yell. Has anything happened?"

"Unicorns."

"That's lovely, let's just start naming all the possible mythical creatures there are out there — nevermind that I asked a question —"

"_Jane Kingsleigh_, honestly, how did you get sorted into Ravenclaw? I'm _telling_ you what happened."

"Oh," I paused. "Well, go on — and don't try to beef yourself up. I'll call you out on it."

"Fine," Draco looked smug. He had his spotlight. "Harry and I were walking through the Forbidden Forest, when out of nowhere, there was a hooded figure, and I was about to curse him, my wand was out and everything —"

I cleared my thoat.

"— And the hooded figure leaned over this unicorn. It looked like it was sucking its blood."

"Then you ran."

"Of course I ran, what else would you have done?"

"I don't know, actually."

"Well, _I'm_ certainly not earning myself any extra detentions. Best you follow my lead, Kingsleigh."

Draco Malfoy turned around and made his way to the dungeons. I followed his advice. I went straight to bed, only pausing in the common room to look for the Ravenclaw ghost. The Grey Lady had not come back.

The day I dreaded had arrived. Our first exam begins in half an hour.

"Calm down," Hestia said over breakfast. "You've studied hard enough."

"More than anyone has, really," Flora yawned. "Even more than Hermione has."

They were right, of course, but nerves spoke louder than my friends did. The only time they were able to put me at ease was after the last exam was over.

"See," Hestia smiled. "I told you you'd ace it."

"We've got a week before we know for sure," I sighed.

"Yes, but Professor Flitwick's told you that you've gotten all the answers in the exam, haven't you?"

"A hundred and ten percent, just a few points less than Hermione."

"Let's just forget about it until the rest of the results come out, then," Flora shrugged. "Oh, look, there's Harry. He looks upset."

"Hi, Hestia, Flora," Harry gave them a tight smile. "Can I talk to Jane? Alone?"

The Carrow twins shrugged and said they'd meet me back inside.

"What is it, Harry?"

"Dumbledore's gone to London," he said urgently. "We just heard from Professor McGonagall. The Stone isn't safe, not anymore at least. Snape's going to get it for Voldemort, and we'll all be dead before morning."

I froze. "We've got to get to it," I muttered before heading off into the castle.

"Hermione's watching Snape, and Ron's guarding the door to Fluffy."

Just as Harry finished his sentence, both people in question were walking our way.

"Bloody hell, you too, Hermione? McGonagall sent me away — said she would take points if I kept hanging 'round the third floor."

"I'm so sorry, Harry, Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away. I don't know where Snape went."

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry turned pale and his eyes glistened. "I'm going to the third floor tonight, to make sure I get to the stone first."

"Harry, no!" Hermione and Ron hissed.

"You're mad!" Ron exclaimed.

"You'll get expelled," Hermione gasped.

"He's right, we've got to go after it," I whispered. "What if You-Know-Who comes back? Will anything else really matter?"

Harry looked glum, all the words bubbling up inside him showed on his face. He was angry, frustrated, but mostly desperate. Desperate to prevent the inevitable. _Why_ I felt that Voldemort's return was inevitable was beyond me — probably something in the books.

"I'll meet you tonight, at the door."

Harry nodded. "Don't get caught, Jane. Oh, and bring your violin."

After dinner, when everyone had gone to bed, I snuck out of the dormitory with my wand and my violin.

"And pray tell, where are you heading tonight, Jane?" the Grey Lady's voice called out. I winced.

"It's a long story, but I've got to get to the third floor."

The Grey Lady's eyes hardened and she nodded slightly. "You can tell me all about it on the way, then."

I did. I had thought she would be more surprised, but instead, she only nodded as if she expected it all to happen. When we had reached the third floor, I had finished my story.

"If he is returning," the Grey Lady said slowly. "Let us hope he does not succeed tonight."

I entered the already open door where Fluffy, the three headed dog was sitting. Harry and the others had not come yet, but I knew I had to play to calm the beast. I drew my bow down on the strings, allowing the notes to fill the air. Fluffy dropped his head to sleep.

"Jane!" I heard Harry from behind me.

"Quickly," I said. "Through the door. I'll go in last."

Harry opened the trap door and looked over at us. "If anything happens, don't follow me. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore."

"Right," said Ron.

"See you in a minute, I hope," Harry said before diving down. "It's OK! It's a soft landing, you can jump!"

After the others had gone down, I shrunk my violin and stuffed it in my pocket before jumping down after them. The floor was sending tentrils up my ankles. In fact, the other three were already shin deep in the patch. Ron and Harry were struggling against it.

"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered. "I know what this is — it's Devil's Snare."

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant curling around his neck.

"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare ... What did Professor Sprout say?"

"It likes the dark and the damp –" I said with great difficulty.

"So light a fire!" Harry choked.

"Yes – of course – but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on Snape at the plant. In a matter of seconds, we felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unravelled itself from our bodies and we were able to pull free.

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway which was the only way on.

All we could hear apart from our footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downwards when a soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

It was dark, and our voices echoed across the passage.

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"I don't know ... sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead – I can see something moving."

We reached the end of the passageway and saw before us a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy, wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once ... Well, there's nothing for it ... I'll run."

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms and sprinted across the room. I held my breath, expecting Harry to be pecked to death. Fortunately, he reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.

We all followed him, and tried to open the door.

"_Alohamora_," I muttered, but to no effect.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"These birds ... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.

We watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering – glittering?

"They're not birds!" I said suddenly, "they're keys! Winged keys — look carefully. So that must mean ..." I looked around the chamber while the other three squinted up at the flock of keys. "... Yes — look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!" Ron examined the lock on the door. "We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one — probably silver, like the handle."

We seized a broomstick each and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. We grabbed and snatched but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.

"That one!" he called to the rest of us. "That big one — there — no, there — with bright blue wings — the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above — Hermione, stay below and stop it going down — Jane, catch it in case it goes anywhere else —and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"

Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upwards, the key dodged them both and Harry streaked after it; it sped towards the wall, Harry leant forward and with a nasty crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and Hermione's cheers echoed around the high chamber.

We landed quickly and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned – it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Harry asked us, his hand on the door handle. We nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark we couldn't see anything at all. But as we stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

We were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than we were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing us, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Our little group shivered slightly – the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces we could see another door.

"How?" said Hermione nervously.

"We might have to be chessmen," I muttered.

"This wants thinking about ..." Ron said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of four of the black pieces ..."

We stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess — I don't know about you, Jane, but _they_ aren't very good."

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go there instead of that castle. Jane, you be the queen."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words the queen, a knight, a bishop and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board leaving three empty squares which Harry, Ron, Hermione and I took.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes ... look ..."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares. Ron started to direct the black pieces. We moved silently wher- ever he sent them. Our first real shock came when their other knight was taken.

The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, face down.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. Ron had made me take quite a few pieces out, and he himself darted around the board taking almost as many white pieces as we had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think – let me think ..."

The white queen turned her blank face towards him.

"Yes ..." said Ron softly, "it's the only way ... I've got to be taken."

"NO!" we shouted.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I'll make my move and she'll take me – that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But –"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron –"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was nothing else for it.

"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go – now, don't hang around once you've won."

He stepped forward and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard around the head with her stone arm and he crashed to the floor – Hermione screamed but stayed on her square – the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left. The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. We won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, we charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's –?"

"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare – Flitwick must've put charms on the keys – McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive – that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's ..." Hermione went on.

They had reached another door.

"All right?" Harry whispered.

"Go on," I said.

Harry pushed it open.

The dark room was illuminated by floating yellow orbs, speeding about the room, as if in orbit. There was a plush silver chair in the center of the room and a door at the end.

"What are they?" Hermione gasped.

"Constellations," I muttered. "Orbs transfigured into them — see, there's Orion's belt — and there's Mars … But that's not right." Mars was too far from where it should have been, and Orion's belt was nowhere _near_ the rest of Orion's body.

"Astronomy!" Harry nearly laughed. "How could we have forgotten Astronomy?"

"Well, how do we get past it?" Hermione asked. She wasn't very keen on Astronomy, you see, although she was very good at studying it.

"We've got to set them in the right orbit," I frowned.

"But they're moving," Hermione said, wringing her hands.

I wracked my brain for a useful spell. "_Arresto Momentum._"

In an instance, the orbs slowed their kinetic movement, and simply floated in their misplaced orbits.

"Right then," I muttered, and began rearranging the orbs to form their constellations. Hermione and Harry stood next to me, watching as the orbs formed silver connections once they were in the right place. I aligned the North Star towards the door, and began repositioning the constellations in their proper coordinates.

After all the orbs were in order, I turned to Harry and Hermione, quite confused. "Andromeda's missing."

"Missing?" Harry exclaimed. "How could it be missing?"

"Well, it's not there."

"Maybe Snape's taken it! To keep us from going on," Hermione gasped.

"Well, Andromeda is supposed to be chained to a rock, so I suppose…" I stepped towards the chair. "You two go to the door, and don't stop if I can't get to it — I mean it, Harry."

Harry nodded grimly.

"Go," I said, pushing them forward.

When they had reached the other end, I tucked my wand in my sleeve and sat down on the chair. Glass tendrils wrapped themselves around my legs and chest, strapping me to the chair. I gasped as it began to tighten and pain began to shoot up my body. "AAAAAGGGGHHHH!"

"Jane!" I heard Harry call out.

"Go!" I screamed.

I didn't hear them disappear behind me. The pain was too overwhelming. It did not subside. If anything, it intensified as I struggled against the glass ropes. I could not tell how much time had passed, at least not while my body was drenched in pain.

"Jane, oh, Jane, are you okay?" Hermione called out.

"H-Her-mi-o-ne," I managed.

She tried to free me, but the glassy ropes only wound tighter.

"Go," I gasped. "Get Ron, and go."

"I'll be back, Jane," Hermione said as she dashed off.

I felt the cold ropes slide up my neck and fought the urge to scream.

"There, there," a frosty voice hissed into the air. _Voldermort_. "Jane Kingsleigh. One day, you shall join me — _just as your father had_."

The ropes wound tighter around my neck. I couldn't breathe. I felt myself pass out.

I expected to feel the wind sucking tunnel taking me back to my own realm, but I didn't. Instead, I opened my eyes to find myself in the hospital wing.

"Well," I said, looking over at the next bed where Harry was eating all flavored beans.

"Why is it," he smiled, offering me a chocolate frog, "that you're always passed out?"

"Speak for yourself, Harry," I laughed and took it from him.

"The year end feast is tonight."

"Indeed it is," Dumbledore said as he came into the room. He smiled down at me through his half mooned spectacles. "Which is why it surprises me to find you still in the hospital wing, Harry — don't dawdle, I shall make sure Miss Kingsleigh gets there on time."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. He gave me an apologetic glance before leaving for the feast.

"Now, Jane," the wise wizard sat on the bed beside me so we were eye to eye. "There are things we must discuss."

"Professor Dumbledore…" I frowned. "Is this about the Curse?"

"Yes and no," his eyes turned intense. "First matter of business would be the Silver Chair. Have you encountered it elsewhere?"

"I have, sir," I smiled. "In a book I am very much fond of."

"Yes, yes, it was wasn't it?" he looked deep in thought. "This was no ordinary chair, Jane. The Silver Chair was in fact in Professor Sinistra's possession, but it had not shown any enchanted qualities in the past. Finding you strapped to it and barely breathing caused many of us great confusion."

"Professor, am I the cause of all this ruckus? This Curse — have there been other Dreamers who have crossed over?"

The old wizard's eyes hardened. "There are storms that come — storms that will come no matter how we try to prevent them. It is of no use shifting the blame, for we are only as strong as our faith in our comrades."

"United we stand, divided we fall."

"That is correct."

"So, there really is a war coming? A war the Dreamers are going to fight in?"

"The only question left is which side each shall fight on. Loyalty is fickle and funny. We never truly know the person standing in front of us."

Both Professor Dumbledore and I were lost in our own thoughts, but I suppose we were thinking of the same thing — through different lenses.

Once we had our wits about us once more, Dumbledore stood to ask Madam Pomfrey if I could join the Year End Feast. She really had no choice in the matter. This was Dumbledore, after all.

Soon, I was seated next to Hestia and Flora, both of whom were glad to see me safe and sound. The chatter died down when Dumbledore had reached the front of the Great Hall.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were ... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts ...

"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw have four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. The rest of us were quite annoyed to see them win.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes ...

"First – to Mr Ronald Weasley ..."

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with bad sunburn.

"... for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other Prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second — to Miss Jane Kingsleigh …"

I felt the entire room's gaze on me. It was enough to make me squirm.

"… for a well navigated road through the stars and unwavering fortitude through the Silver Chair's painful enchantment, I award Ravenclaw house fifty points."

The Ravenclaw table erupted in unrestrained cheers. We were in the lead!

"Third – to Miss Hermione Granger ... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; looking as though she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves – they were a hundred points up.

"Fourth – to Mr Harry Potter ..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "... for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points." The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points – exactly the same as Slytherin.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible forced smile.

Yes, no matter who had won, the look on Professor Snape's face was indeed priceless.

There were, of course, more personal worried to look to. The day of the exam results had come. Hestia and Flora had gotten decent marks, but they barely rejoiced. There was an unusual gathering in the common room as Sam, Sue and I were about to announce our scores.

Eddie had been chosen to deliver the big reveal.

"Settle down, all of you!" he said firmly before conjuring up a floating chalk board behind him. "Here it goes."

Eddie began writing as silence filled the room. He used his figure to block the numbers he scribbled down. For a few minutes, all that could be heard were the scratches of chalk against the board.

"Here it is, then. The winner is clear."

_Class Jane Sue Sam_  
_Herbology 99% 100% 100%_  
_D.A.D.A. 100% 94% 90%_  
_Potions 94% 93% 95%_  
_ 93% 95% 93%_  
_Astronomy 132% 88% 99%_  
_Transfig. 120% 99% 100%_  
_Charms 110% 102% 111%_  
_H.o.M. 96% 100% 100%_  
_ 100% 101% 102%_

I sighed with relief. Hestia and Flora hugged me as a wave of gossip made its way through the crowd.

"Never doubted you for a minute," Eddie thumped my back. "Good job, Jane."

I let out a laugh. "Thanks for the help, Eddie."

Sam and Sue took their defeat gracefully, and we shook hands.

"I can try to get Fred and George to let you out of the deal," I offered.

Sam shook his head. "A deal is a deal. We owe you an apology, Kingsleigh."

"Please, Jane will do."

"Jane, then," Sue smiled. "Maybe we can study together next year — no ill intentions, I promise you."

I laughed. "I'll hold you to it, then."

Soon enough, our trunks were packed, our rooms empty, and our 'no-magic-outside-of-school' memos handed out.

"We'll be doing it anyway," Eddie groaned. "We've got homework to do, after all."

As it is with most moments you'd want to prolong, the trip back was far too short. Hagrid sailed us across the lake; we boarded the Hogwarts Express; we talked and laughed as the countryside passed us by; we changed out of our school robes and pulled on our jackets. King's Cross Station came into view much too soon.

It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"See you next year, then," I said as the Carrow Twins were about to pass through.

"Come visit this summer," Hestia smiled.

"Yes, you must," Flora insisted.

"I'll send Cato," I smiled, waving at them as they walked away.

I stood with Harry, Ron and Hermione on the platform, waiting our turn.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "all of you – I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry. "I'll need something to look forward to."

People jostled us as we moved forwards towards the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!'

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry.

"I'll see you all soon, then," I waved. It was my turn to go through the barrier.

"Don't pass out over the summer," Harry teased.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," I winked before disappearing through.

Alice was waiting for me on the other side. I rushed to meet her.

"Eventful year?"

"You've _no_ idea."


	14. 14: A Plethora of Dilemmas

A/N: Again, I do not take credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Tim Burton, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker.

...

Chapter 14

...

A Plethora of Dilemmas

...

I told Alice all about the Philosopher's Stone on the train to Chrysocolla Cottage. She made the perfect audience; and the countryside made the perfect backdrop for storytelling.

"And then _Voldemort_ had said something. He said I would join his side, just like Eliphas had."

"But Eliphas wasn't really on his side," Alice reminded me.

"And neither will I ever be."

At that moment, the cabin lights went out, and the clouds turned grey.

"What's happening?" I whispered.

"I don't know…"

The muggles on the train were beginning to stand and move about, all confused and worried and afraid.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the conductor said through the speakers. "We are currently experiencing some technical difficulties. We suspect the train has broken down. Please remain calm and seated while our crew inspect the situation. Thank you."

Of course, when the conductor says to be calm, the passengers tend to get even more worried.

"You don't think —" I didn't finish my sentence.

The door of the train screeched, and a tall and stocky cloaked figure entered our cabin. The muggles around us screamed in horror, but my own voice was stuck in my throat.

The cloaked figure reached into his pocket and drew out a wand. I drew my breath. Alice dug her fingers into my arm.

The hooded man walked slowly down the aisle, shooting full body binding spells as he did. Muggles were left confused and paralyzed on their seats. His face was covered by his ash grey curly hair, but he was menacing all the same. He came to our aisle and stood before us.

"I've been waiting," he hissed. "Waiting for so long…"

He pulled his hood back to reveal a worn out face with sinister brown eyes. A hideous smile formed as he walked towards us.

"Hello, Jane _March_," he whispered. "I see you've caught the Curse."

It had been a while since I returned to my own realm, so hearing the man utter my other name came as an unfamiliar shock.

"_Samuel_," Alice exclaimed, drawing her wand. "There are _muggles_ here. Do you really want to break the law?"

He grinned wider. "I am above the law, dear Grandmother. In fact, we _all_ are. I don't understand why Dreamers such as ourselves should be subject to such nonsense."

"In case you've forgotten, Samuel, we're _cursed_. I do think death's gotten to your head."

"In fact, Grandmother, it has done me well. If I hadn't come to this world, well, I would have died a fool — but here, I am once again the man of my youth."

"The same hollow man with wicked ambitions? I hardly think that's an improvement."

"Wouldn't you like to know, dear Alice, what has happened to my precious Beth? Aren't you curious? Oh, I know you can't resist a good riddle. Shall I solve it for you?"

Alice did not respond. Her lips formed a tight line.

"I'll tell you, then. Beth was part of an elaborate plan of mine — a rather clever one, if I do say so myself.

"You see, I was well aware that I had been summoned into this realm when the Curse had been transfered — and I was well aware that I could, in fact, perish in the other realm because of this. At first, this frightened me to no end, but then I thought, what use is my physical body to me anyway? If I could have a free soul to travel the realms with, then why should I not do it?

"So, _I _staged my own death that my spirit should leave my physical body. But I needed another body, you see — a body to keep my soul in.

"Here is where Beth comes in. Ah, sweet Beth. As you know, the laws of creation are clear — one in exchange for another. And so, I destroyed Beth's body, and used her blood to create my own. Since we had become one flesh — by marriage — it wasn't too hard to create a physical form.

"And so, I had obtained it. I had considered traveling to a different realm, but I couldn't seem to do so. Alas, I've just realized that having a physical body keeps you from traveling between realms at all. I do believe, dear Jane, that there is a loophole somewhere, and you are just the witch to help me find it.

"Now, you wonder what my goal is. My ultimate goal, of course is nothing less than the best — immortality.

"And, of course, I've tried to work it out on my own. The Dark Magic involved was taxing, as you can judge. I aged decades and centuries, and no, I am not yet immortal, but the Curse could help me. If only Jane would —"

"I won't do anything for the likes of you," I interrupted him.

Samuel scowled. "What can _you_ do against such a wizard as I am? You're just a child."

"If you lay a hand on Jane, it won't be a pretty sight," Alice warned.

Samuel smirked. "You'll join me soon enough, Grandmother. And you will too, Jane. All you have left to do is… think it over, I suppose. Until then."

With a wink, he raised his wand and muttered a spell that knocked out all the muggles in the cabin. Afterwards, he turned around and left. Alice quickly grabbed my hand. We collected our things and got off the train. We were nowhere near Chrysocolla Cottage, but to be found in a cabin with petrified muggles was a far worse option.

"We've got to get to Dumbledore," Alice said after a long pause.

She scribbled a note and sent Cato off with it, hoping he would find Dumbledore fast. We walked aimlessly through the countryside in silence, both knowing it would be too dangerous to head to Chrysocolla Cottage with the threat of Samuel looming so close by.

"How did he find us?" I voiced the question both Alice and I had been asking since we hopped off the train.

She shook her head. "He must have followed us from the platform…"

"All the way from King's Cross? It seems improbable…"

"I should think he's been lurking 'round since his little disappearing act."

It seemed that Dumbledore was a big fan of grand entrances — even in the most delicate situations. The wise man announced himself by Ministry car, stepping out with the Minister himself tailing after him.

"Quickly," he said, gesturing us into the car. "We must discuss things in private."

The driver kindly took my luggage and we ducked into the car. Cato perched himself on my shoulder and I stroke his feathers, certain he was as anxious as I was. Alice was recounting our little Samuel experience, leaving the Minister with a dumb-founded expression.

"So it's true!" Minister Cornelius Fudge mumbled. "Dreamers! Who would have thought!"

"You understand, Cornelius, that we mustn't let this information out," Dumbledore said.

"Yes, yes," Cornelius Fudge said flabbergasted. "The security risks this would pose! Imagine!"

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "For now, I do believe that apart from safety, rest is of the utmost priority. Shall we head on, then?"

And head to who-knows-where we did. In silence, might I add. I was lost in my own thoughts and fears, wondering what Samuel had in store for Alice and me — hoping it had nothing to do with Voldemort.

_Sleep overtook me before I had realized it, and the vortex pulled me back into the physical world. I felt as tired as ever._

It was the 26th of December. America was a long plane ride and a whole day away from my lovely England, but I had to get on it sooner or later. It was unavoidable.

The upside: for the next fifteen hours, my phone would be out of reach. Considering the number of missed calls Joe has left for me, I felt relieved. Whatever he wanted to tell me, he seemed quite anxious to get it over with. Oh, God, I desperately hope it has nothing to do with 'defining the relationship.' I've seen Henry go through it, and it is as uncomfortable as a hippo squeezing itself into skinny jeans.

I spent the entire plane ride fussing over Samuel. To defeat him, I required something greater — I required the wisdom of an uncursed Dreamer — the good kind.

Coming up with this idea was the easy part — like the sky deciding to be blue. _Finding_ an uncursed Dreamer was another story all together. I highly doubt there exists a Dreamer's gathering of sorts in the middle of Portland — although, I do admit, if it would be held anywhere, it _would_ most definitely be held in Portland — but even if that sort of thing _were_ to exist, how would I find it? With torches and insane bellowing? No, I do believe I would more likely end up in an asylum of some sort…

Or some cult will just decide to claim me as their own.

I do believe the later is more likely.

But I don't plan to test that theory.

And so it was that I, the completely incompetent Jane March, arrived in America without a plan. Why is it that I seem more apt as Jane Kingsleigh? Or is that just because I'm a nineteen year old in an eleven year old's body? Of course, I haven't reconciled this age thing yet. If I develop _feelings_ for another _child_…

_No, that can't possibly happen._

Papa got me from the airport and we drove home. I told him all about my extended stay at Grandma Caroline's, but left out the details of the realm — he had just gotten away from that nightmare, after all. It seemed selfish to remind him again.

"And that boy?"

"What do you mean that boy?"

Papa smirked. "Joe."

"What about Joe?"

Papa rolled his eyes. "Come on, Jane, you're smart enough to know what I mean."

"I know what you want to hear," I laughed. "You've always been against my hopeless romantic heart."

"And I still am," he paused. "I just want to know if you've struck gold."

He gave me a meaningful glance as I pondered his question.

"I can't say for sure," I pursed my lips. "I don't want to claim that I have only to find myself biting my tongue later."

"Fool's gold is a trickster, it is," Papa said as we pulled into the garage. That was the end of the conversation. For now, at least. Of course, the Joe dilemma remained. Despite the fact that I'd been avoiding it over the holidays — escaping into the realm included — it's never really left my mind. I always knew the answer, but I suppose I never wanted to admit it to myself even. Because if I admitted anything to myself, I'd have to take action.

I dialed the still unfamiliar number on my phone as soon as I got to my room. Joe answered on the seventh ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Joe! I'm back," I muttered into the line.

"Oh, Jane! That's fantastic! Can we meet up? I really have something important to tell you."

"Sure, where are you?"

"Downtown, near the theater."

"Give me half an hour?"

"Sounds good."

"Lovely, I'll see you then."

I ended the call with a soft tap, and showered quickly. When I picked up my phone after, I was surprised to see Professor Fiddle's name show up on the screen.

"Professor?!" I answered.

"Hi, Jane," he sounded frantic. "We need to talk."

"What about? If it's the whole project, I can explain."

"No, no, it's much bigger than that."

"Well, alright, the first Monday back —"

"No, this can't wait the first Monday back."

The urgency in his voice shocked me. Professor Fiddle was many things. He was eccentric, queer, over analytical, but never anxious. His anxiety scared me more than anything.

"Alright," I went on cautiously.

"It can't be done over the phone, but no matter what you do, stay away from Joe."

"Wha— Joe? What has this got to do with Joe?"

"Jane March, you must trust me," his next few words chilled me to the bone. "_I know about the Curse_."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Because you can't trust Joe," he said as if reading my mind. "Even now you feel it. Even now you know something's wrong. Ms March, you mustn't see him anymore. If I'd known sooner —"

"But how did you _know_? Anything?"

"Not over the phone. Just. Stay put. We'll talk in the morning."

He hung up, and I did the most logical thing I could. I went to see Joe.

I admit, it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I suppose being in the realm for too long all day long made me feel less vulnerable. Or perhaps it was because I didn't like taking advice from Professor Fiddle. In any case, I was on the Metro in five minutes, and downtown in fifteen.

Joe was leaning against the door of a well known cafe, trying to listen to the street performers as they filled the night with their music. He wasn't doing a very convincing job. His once flaming red hair had turned dark brown, and he no longer had his glasses on. I still felt flutters in my stomach, but I doubt it was of the same kind.

"Well, you've certainly changed," I said, announcing my arrival. He grinned.

"Hey, you," he said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I flinched. He smelled of alcohol.

_No. Not alcohol._

"There's someone I'd like you to meet," Joe said before I could utter anything else.

The butterflies in my stomach had stopped fluttering. Instead, they began gnawing at me, urging me to see past the glamour of it all. Of course, what kind of glamour I was supposed to be seeing past was beyond me.

From behind Joe, a much older man stepped out from the shadows. He was burlier, but had the same sharp jaw, the same intense gaze. He looked at me with his unkind eyes.

"My father," he smiled.

"Pleased to meet you," I said, shaking his hand.

"Yes," he smirked. "Pleased indeed, Ms _Kingsleigh_."

I froze. "Sorry, you must have gotten the wrong name, It's March."

"Oh?" he cocked a thick eyebrow up. "In which realm?"

I clenched my jaw. "What do you want?"

"Simple," Joe said in that voice of his. Just weeks ago, I would have died to have him whisper in my ear, but that felt like ages ago. He leaned in. "I want the Curse."

I stepped back, but felt his arm firmly grip mine.

"Now, now, Miss March," his father hissed. "Let's not do anything too rash. The old Samuel and I had a deal, you see."

"He's dead," I said, my voice like venom.

Joe smirked. "And?"

"I won't sign off on any deal you might have made with him."

A sudden flash of light appeared behind me, and a few pedestrians screamed. I spun around to see Professor Fiddle speeding towards us in his Audi. Joe cursed under his breath.

"Let's go," his father growled.

Joe turned to me. "This isn't over, Jane. Mark my words."

I shoved him away and scrambled away from them. Professor Fiddle stopped the car, allowing me to hop in before he drove off again.

"That was not staying put," he said anxiously.

"It's good to see you, too, Professor."


End file.
